Book of Magik
by Xakko
Summary: Back to Limbo to save Illyana. AU, set before Messiah Complex. Many Xmen appear, concentrating on Nightcrawler, Colossus, Kitty, Rachel,Dani and Doug. started before New Xmen's Quest for Magik. Kiotr. Now complete with 100% more happy ending!
1. Dreams

Belasco smiled. Years of deliberate planning were finally coming to fruition. Limbo was once again his, the usurper fled back to Earth, undoubtedly to marshal the forces against him.

His hand twisted in the air, a trail of green fire in its wake. A shriek erupted from the lesser demon he had charged with the blond witch's capture.

"Master!" came the high-pitched, beginner's violin-like voice, "Show mercy!"

"Mercy?" His eyes slanted evilly as he gazed on the wretched thing writhing in the eldritch flame, but the smile never left his face. "What would an imp know of mercy? Why, nothing! And so you deserve!"

His fingers danced, becoming a claw, which he then slowly tightened into a fist. The energy crackling around his victim collapsed in response, and the creature's shriek grew to a wail, which then cut off abruptly.

"Not very robust, are they?" he asked the hulking figure in the black vest beside him.

"Nah, not too much. Always saw 'em as more cannon fodder anyways. Overwhelm yer opponent with superior numbers, that sorta thing."

"Well, I expect we shall have visitors soon, so I hold you personally responsible for ensuring a proper welcome." The demon lord's voice was urbane, and yet dripped with malice. And through it all, the smile. "I would suggest that you do not disappoint me, as did your… brother."

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," the large red creature replied, chomping on a cigar. "Oh, hey boss, one thing…"

"Yes?"

"Why toast the imp? I mean, ain't no moss off my horns, but it ain't like you didn't plan on the wench going topside."

"Of course."

"So… y'know…" He gestured at the expanding vapor that was all that remained.

"He failed his task. I knew he would, I intended it, or else the Szardos girl would not even now be running to the X-men in furtherance of my designs. But I realize that part of what led to my… inconvenience at the hands of my former student, and others, was that I had grown soft. I began to toy with them, and it came back to haunt me. I do not plan on making such an error again. Failure is not an option."

Only then did his smile fade, for just a moment. "My own masters have taught me that lesson."

The large red demon looked into Belasco's eyes, and shuddered.

* * *

Kitty Pryde was terrified. That itself felt alien to her. Fear? She and fear were old, old friends. But stark terror, to a mutant ninja superhero? She hadn't felt this way in years.

She dove straight down into the ground. Thank God she could still phase. But the sharp, stinging sensation in her left arm told her that her talent might not be enough to get her out of this. She "swam" down several meters, hoping to find some cavern in which to hide. She was blind here, only able to differentiate solid ground and open air by the differences in their subatomic structure. She groped around for that feeling until finally, her lungs burning, she rose to the surface.

Her head peeked out from a boulder, just enough to allow her to breathe. In the distance she could see the Institute in flames. It barely registered with her at this point, the destruction of her home. The loss of life, however, was another matter. The sight of students and faculty – her friends and loved ones – being torn limb from limb, being eaten alive- that was more than she could bear.

A menacing shadow flickered across her face. With a quick gasp of air, she slid back down and began to move away rapidly. She could feel the vibrations as the earth behind her was town asunder, and she redoubled her efforts. She swam as far as she could, heading in what she hoped was the direction of Breakstone Lake. She broke the surface and gave herself a split second to orient herself. There was a hideous baying, and she knew she wasn't moving fast enough. These… things seemed to be able to track her, even when she was intangible. She considered an attempt to airwalk above the pack, but seeing winged creatures swooping over the grounds made her disregard that notion.

She rubbed her left arm absently. She'd bound the wound, but it hurt like hell. There was a vague sense that there should be some sort of protection there, some armor that was lacking. She pushed the thought from her head, getting back to the here and now.

She took a few deep breaths, gathering her strength, then phased out of the ground. She hit the grass at a dead sprint, and for a few heartbeats, she thought she might make it to the lake, where she felt she could lose her pursuers. There was a moment there, where there was no indication that she'd been spotted.

"There she is! The girl the Master wants! Get her!"

So much for that idea. She had another option- a final resort. In her life she had managed to phase herself free of Earth gravitational pull to the extent that she would remain still while everything else moved away at speeds in excess of the speed of sound. But once she'd been unconscious and inside adamantium Mandroid armor and another time she had Magma's protection and Sage's computer mind doing the calculations. On her own, the odds were high she would run out of air in the middle of an object, and that would be… messy. The alternative, however, was a dozen creatures that had just crested the hill and were racing down towards her.

She closed her eyes, focusing her will. It was working- in a second, she would be miles away from here- or rather, here would be miles away from her.

It was a strange feeling, to feel lines of gravimetric force slide through her. It tingled, like static cling inside her body. It gave her goosebumps. It-

It was like hitting a wall. A pinkish, muscular hand was around her throat, and her legs flailed wildly seeking purchase. She couldn't breathe, couldn't phase. In desperation, she reached out to summon her Soulsword.

_Why did she think she had the Soulsword?_

A fiery silver blade appeared to her left, as a frighteningly familiar German accented voice spoke, "Looking for this, _Kätchzen_?"

As Belasco crushed her windpipe, she expended the remainder of her air in a scream.

"Kurt! No!"

* * *

"Katya- Katya! Please wake up!"

The familiar voice cut through the blackness, and Kitty struggled to rise out of the abyss of her nightmare. She gasped for air, her hands flying to her throat.

Peter continued, his voice quiet but earnest. "Katya, it is very important that you listen to me right now. I need you to stay very relaxed and climb up from the floor. Most importantly – you need to stay phased."

She opened her eyes, and quickly realized that she was less than a foot above the throw rug that was under the bed. She'd sunk down into the floor, bottom first, and only her head and knees were above the solid oak. Her eyes lit upon Peter's bare feet and ankles, gleaming in the moonlight. He'd shifted to his armored form for some reason. Glancing up quickly provided the explanation; he was holding their four-poster king-sized bed aloft, and staring down at her with his concern plain on his face.

The door burst open as Marvel Girl's telekinesis tore it out of its frame. "Kitty!" she cried out as she flew in, her body glowing with power.

"I'm all right, Ray," she said, calmly. "Only I seem to be having some difficulty getting up right now – can't seem to get any traction, so to speak."

Suppressing the urge to giggle, Rachel quoted something from the top of her friend's thoughts, "'What a revolting development', indeed. Well, I think I can lend you a hand with that. So to speak." She reached out, and her face contorted with intense concentration. Getting a hold of Shadowcat's intangible form was like trying to grasp vapor, even for someone with her mastery of telekinesis, but by working together, they managed to pull Kitty up above the floorboards, where she then resumed a solid form.

"Bad dream?" the redhead asked her former roommate.

"The worst. Limbo's hell on earth. Belasco. Evil Kurt." She shivered with the memory. "I think I must've tried to take a breath while I was phasing through the bed – it translated as being choked to death in my dream."

"_Da,"_ Peter agreed. "I suddenly felt you move, or rather, I no longer felt you next to me. Your scream was cut off, waking me from my own nightmare, and I saw you sinking. That's when I grabbed this," referring to the bed he continued to hold in the air.

"And sent a telepathic SOS to me," Rachel added, cheerfully. "Good thing, too. Another foot and everyone on the first floor below you was going to know what color panties you wear."

In spite of the edges of fear that still clouded her thoughts, Kitty felt her ears burn red, and she self-consciously tugged at the hem of her nightgown. "Um, Ray, can you fix the door, I'm feeling a little exposed."

Her friend complied, pulling the pieces of the door into place, and then with an almost negligent wave of her hand, fusing it together. Then she just collapsed to the ground in laughter. Peter and Kitty looked at each other, perplexed, and Kitty moved to her friend's side.

"Are you OK? Is it some sort of attack?"

Rachel struggled to regain her breath. "No… heehee… I'm sorry, Kate… snort… it's just… heh… gasp… you said that you felt exposed, and poor Petey's over there doing an Incredible Hulk impression!"

Kitty looked over at her lover, and saw that his transformation had left his pajama bottoms in tatters. She found herself giggling a little bit, before looking around for a bathrobe. Peter, glad his armored form did not show him blushing, finally put down the bed and took the offered robe.

* * *

An hour later, several members of the X-men were gathered around a roaring fireplace. Kurt Wagner perched on an antique chair in his traditional crouch, his two elongated toes gripping the front of the cushion. He stared out the window, where dawn was threatening to break. It had taken them a while to get the students back in bed, including some judicious use of Rachel's telepathy to preserve Peter and Kitty's modesty from the first kids who'd come rushing to see what all the commotion had been about.

Given the year the Institute had suffered through – especially the losses to the student body – Kurt had made a mental note of which students had come running towards the potential trouble. He could meet with Scott later to see if they might pursue an advanced course of study for those individuals that had shown such promise and courage.

Kitty had given an account of her dream, and it bothered him. He knew that he was not that twisted, sniveling version that served the Demon Lord Belasco, but the idea that such evil could somehow be found and drawn out of his character shook him to his core. He murmured a little prayer under his breath, asking God for guidance and strength.

After they had sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating the horrors that Kitty had recounted, he asked, "Peter, you mentioned that you also had a nightmare?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Colossus said with a nod. He was behind Kitty, his giant hands gently massaging her shoulders. "I was back home – near Lake Baikal – and I saw a runaway tractor bearing down on my sister again, only it wasn't Illyana, but Katya. She was in my sister's armor, and it was Belasco driving the tractor. As I did so long ago, I transformed and jumped in front of it, expecting it to crumple like before. However, as it hit me, my organic steel crumpled like so much tinfoil, and we were both dying."

He shuddered. "That is when Katya woke me up with her cry."

"Two Belasco related dreams," Scott Summers began. "Assuming it is not somehow a coincidence, what do we do? I thought he had been killed?"

Wolverine scoffed, "We all know better'n that. Creeps like that don't know how to stay dead."

"I could visit Amanda," Kurt volunteered, "She would be the first to know if that verdammt… creature… were to pollute Limbo with his fetid stench."

"Belay that, Nightcrawler," Scott said in his quiet, commanding voice. "I don't need you teleporting into a situation blind, especially if there's a chance it's been compromised. What are our other options?"

"You know me an' Strange are tight now," Logan said, leaning against a bookcase. "I call him up, he looks into that fancy Eye of Amaretto, gets us a sit rep on what's going on down there." Without giving his team leader a chance to reply, he pulled out a cell phone and hit a button. He walked out into the foyer, his voice low, "Yeah, Wong, is the Doc in?"

"I know you and Logan don't get along all the time, Scott," Kitty said, forcing herself into a more jovial tone, "But the man has the Sorcerer Supreme on speed dial- you gotta be impressed with that."

Cyclops grunted. "What else? Can someone call Forge?"

"I will," said Peter, who seemed restless even as he absently continued to work the tension out of his girlfriend's neck muscles. "I know he has been to Limbo before, but it was against his will and I am not sure he knows the way."

With a nod, their team leader continued, "Failing that, we'll try Kurt's port, and as an absolute last resort, I still have some thunderbolts left over from Arkon. But I would much rather hear back that this was just a case of eating a late, spicy dinner, and Miss Sefton is doing just fine."

Kurt nodded solemnly. He rested his chin on interlaced fingers. "_Danke, __meine Freunde_. It would be good to quiet my mind." Everyone in the room knew of his history with Jimaine Szardos, better known as Amanda Sefton. She'd created that identity to be close to her foster brother. First love had blossomed into a long-term relationship, and while that hadn't lasted for a variety of reasons, they were still connected by emotional bonds as any they'd ever had. He chided himself for getting so worked up over a mere dream – and someone else's at that. Still, concern for Amanda gnawed at him, an ache in his very soul. And upon reflection, it was an ache that may have started last night. He'd dismissed it as midwinter melancholy, but it had intensified with the recounting of Kitty and Peter's respective dreams.

All this talk of Limbo made him think of the soulsword, buried deep within him by some magic that he wasn't at all comfortable with. He stifled the sudden urge to pull it out, but he started to wonder – the sword was connected to Limbo, and in myriad ways to Amanda, Kitty, and all the others who had wielded it. And the way it was hidden inside him, in a metaphysical state, in much the same manner as he would explain to a child the location of his soul. Which was aching.

He turned to his teammates. "Something is wrong in Limbo. I am sure of it."

"More than you know, fuzzy" a weak, very familiar voice said.

"_Was?_" exclaimed Kurt, broken from his reverie. "Amanda!"

Amanda Sefton was in bad shape, leaning heavily against Logan in the doorway. She was not in her Magik raiment, but instead wore a tattered outfit that didn't fit her well. Makeshift bandages soaked through with blood adorned her head and several other locations on her body, and her left arm hung limply at her side.

"Yeah," Wolverine said as Kurt appeared next to them in a burst of sulfur and brimstone. "Ya never know what you'll find on the doorstep in this place."

Kurt took Amanda from his teammate. He shouted, "Someone, please call Dr. Reyes to the medlab!"

With that, he teleported away with the soft "bamf" of imploding air.

"Guess we can call off the search party," quipped Logan. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen with a brew."

* * *

The blond woman managed a smile, despite the pain. "Really, Kurt, I'm fine. You're overreacting."

"Don't hate me if I don't take your word for it," Dr. Cecilia Reyes countered as she cut off one of the scraps of cloth binding a nasty looking scratch on Amanda's arm. "Kurt, please hand me that antiseptic. What did this to you, girl?"

"Imps. Demons. Maybe an efreet. It was hard to keep track."

"Miss Sefton," Cyclops began, "I realize you've been injured, but any information you can give us-"

Kurt shot back, his voice thick with anger and worry. "For mercy's sake, Scott, can't this wait? She's been wounded…"

"No, Fuzzy elf, it's OK." Wincing, the sorceress lifted her head off the table to address them, "Belasco… attacked with out warning. Brad and Roger barely slowed him. I barely had time to 'port out of there. He's much… stronger now."

Dr. Reyes scolded them, "That's enough. I think she'll be all right, Kurt, but some of these gashes are unusual- I hate this magic stuff – but right now, at this moment, she needs her rest." With that, she gave her patient a hypodermic, and began typing information into a palm computer. "That's your cue to leave, by the way."

Kurt bowed his head in assent. "If I must go – _vas?_"

Amanda had reached out and taken his hand. "Kurt… before I fall asleep, there's something you must know. Before I got out of there, I heard him talking. He's planning on revenge… against me… against the X-men… and against…" Her voice was fading quickly as the sedative took effect.

"Against who, Amanda?"

"Against the person… who first took Limbo from him…against… the first Magik."

Kurt protested, "But Illyana's dead-"

Amanda peered up through heavy-laden eyes. "Are you sure?"

And then she was asleep, and Cecilia was telling him in no uncertain terms that his presence in her medlab was not welcome. He fled as far as the observation room, where fretted away the next several hours, fielding and deflecting questions as a parade of X-men came in to see how she was doing.


	2. Hell on Earth

With a start, Kurt woke to find himself sliding out of a chair in the observation room. With a glance at his watch, he realized it had been over ten hours since he had brought Amanda down to the medlab- it would be getting dark outside. He realized there was a soft Shi'ar blanket still on his shoulders. He yawned deeply and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles.

With a "whoosh", the door opened, and Cecilia walked in carrying a cup of coffee. "You've barely been asleep an hour, Kurt, and your team just got back early this morning. As your doctor – and the only person on staff with any common sense – I'm telling you to go to bed."

Kurt objected, "And how much sleep have you had? You were up late dealing with the wounded from yesterday's accident in the Danger Room."

"When you've finished a thirty six hour shift during your residency, you can talk to me about whether or not I'm tired." Her reply was arched.

"How is she?"

The doctor frowned, "Better. That kid – Josh – stopped by and most of the scratches and cuts are gone, but she's still running a fever that I don't like. She's still out – poor girl – I don't think she's slept in days, and she's traveled a long way. Now get some sleep, and allow her to do the same."

"But-" He didn't want to leave.

She gave him a shove out into the hall. "If anything changes, you'll be the first one I call. I promise."

She shut the door behind him. He started down the corridor with a lot on his mind. Amanda's last words before succumbing to Dr. Reyes' sedative (and her own desperate need for rest) had certainly complicated things. It was one thing for Belasco to retake Limbo – it was a significant threat, but not necessarily an unmanageable one. The X-men had more powerful connections than he could ever remember, what with Beast and Wolverine as members of Avengers squads, and Storm a member of the Fantastic Four. With resources the likes of Doctor Strange, Iron Man and the Black Panther, he felt less apprehensive about a daemonic invasion than he would have since, say, Kulan Gath's last assault on New York or the Goblyn Queen's Inferno. Yes, they could afford to be patient, if it was just Belasco.

The possible involvement of Illyana made things different. It made things personal. It already had been for him when he'd seen Amanda standing there in the hall weak and injured, but he was also enough of a leader to know that his desire for vengeance did not justify risking the lives of his friends. But Illyana – alive? He couldn't even begin to know how to broach this subject with Kitty and Peter. Peter, who'd sacrificed himself so no one would have to die as his sister had. Kitty, who seemed to be bonded at a spiritual level to the Russian girl. To expect them to look at even the possibility in a calm, rational manner was just unrealistic. And given that it wasn't even a certainty – Amanda was being cryptic after all – he was more than hesitant to offer any sort of false hope, only to have to witness their heartache should it be crushed later on. No, he wouldn't do that to them, not when he could wait until Amanda could tell them herself, to have as many facts available as possible.

He turned down another hallway and nearly ran into Kitty and Rachel, who were getting off the elevator.

"Any change?" Kitty asked, concern plain on her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she'd been unable (or unwilling) to get any more sleep. Kurt couldn't blame her.

"She's still asleep," he answered. "Josh Foley came by and healed most of the cuts, but she's running a fever. Cecilia just kicked me out- apparently I'm being a bit of a pest." He brought his hand to his mouth to cover another yawn.

Rachel reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Amanda's very important to you, Kurt, and I'm sure Dr. Reyes understands that. She's probably just teasing you, and by the looks of things, you could really use the rest."

"We can take over the watch now," said Kitty, stifling her own yawn. "We Excalibur alums have to stick together, right?"

"I appreciate that – both of you." Nightcrawler thanked them. "But where's Peter? He hasn't been back down since earlier, and it's rare to see you two not attached at the hip."

"Be nice," Kitty said warmly. "Anyway, Peter said he was had to go think things over."

"_Ach!_ Do we have enough trees on the estates?" Kurt forced the joke, referring to Colossus's habit of working things out via physical labor. It was almost a Zen thing for him, the rhythmic chopping of the axe allowing for clarity of thought his blue-furred teammate often envied. It was probably a good thing he was getting his head together. When Peter had stopped down to look in on Amanda a few hours ago, he exhibited a nervous energy that had worried Kurt. The name "Belasco" elicited strong emotions from them all, but in Peter, the effect was nearly Pavlovian – his teeth would clench, his jaw would set, and it was plainly evident that he was resisting the urge to transform to the organic steel form of Colossus. The Russian had paced up and down the observation lounge for countless minutes, flexing his fingers, balling them into fists, with a look of barely contained anger flashing in his eyes. Finally, Dr. Reyes, who had not forgiven him for his stunt with the Legacy Virus cure, came flying out of the medlab, telling him that he was making everyone anxious on top of all their concern, and to get the hell away from her before she shoved a force field spike up his "tin-plated ass".

While Rachel had laughed at his joke, Kitty barely smiled. He knew that she wished Piotr would be able to talk with her when troubled, instead of taking it out on the vegetation. The pair had a very strong relationship this time around, but it was clear to Kurt that some degree of insecurity would almost always remain. The X-men didn't have a great history of long, healthy relationships, and the failure of her parents' marriage had been traumatic as well. It couldn't help that Theresa Pryde had not been terribly accepting of her daughter renewing a relationship with the boy who'd broken her heart.

"Petey can get the next watch, when he's done deforesting the estate," Rachel said, breaking the silence. "Meanwhile, you get some rest. I can be your telepathic alarm clock if there's anything new."

"Oh, _nein!_" Kurt exclaimed, "Not again! I think I much prefer the sound of the X-link."

"Aw," Rachel laughed, "What's the matter, 'Unky Elf'? Don't you like my wake up calls?"

Kitty looked at the two of them quizzically, trying to ferret out the inside joke they were sharing. Seeing this, Kurt explained, "Once or twice, when we were out in space and we were staggering our sleep schedules, our Marvel Girl here projected some rather… interesting music into my head to get me out of bed. It was, well, jarring."

Rachel tried to look innocent, batting her eyelashes with a flourish, "I was just trying to broaden your horizons. "Schrödinger's Cat Walks the Planck" live totally rocked- Macrocosmic Jelly at their best."

"My head was still ringing an hour later."

"Advantage of using telepathy. You can really crank the volume without worrying about hearing loss."

Nightcrawler reflexively rubbed his temple at the memory. "My musical horizons notwithstanding, I think I would rather be able to think coherently when Amanda is conscious."

"Spoilsport." Rachel stuck her tongue out at him. "And I'd just gotten an awesome cover of their speed metal version of Tom Lehrer's 'The Elements'. Now get your furry blue butt to bed."

* * *

_Thunk. Clatter. Clunkclunk. _Pause. _Thunk. Clatter. Clunkclunk. _Pause. 

Logan watched the methodical way his friend was tearing through the log pile. The boy, stripped to the waist despite the chill, was seriously upset about things. _Thunk. Clatter. Clunkclunk._

"Nasty piece a' work, that Belasco," he opined.

"_Da._" Peter replied curtly, without breaking rhythm. _Thunk. Clatter._ He paused to lay the two log halves on the pile, now waist high, and grabbed the next log. He set it on the base, and hefted the axe.

Without warning, before the larger man could even start his swing, there was a snikt, a silvery flash of metal, and the log was cut in twain.

Peter arched an eyebrow.

"I know you think ya need to be alone with yer thoughts right now, but ya don't. Your dream and Kit's, they got you rattled, and I ain't leavin' till I know how it's affecting you, an' if that makes you a liability when we go take the bastard down." Logan spit down into the snow.

"I will be fine, _tovarisch._"

"Prove it."

The Russian lay down his axe, and with a burst of energy, shifted to his armored form. "A test, then? As Scott did when we faced Proteus? Adamantium against organic steel?"

"Chill, kid. That ain't where I'm going with this." Wolverine sniffed the air, "You barely got a grip on that anger, and angry people make mistakes. We can't afford to not have your head in the game, Pete. You are the most durable of us all, an' still one'a your selves got his chest punched out down there. Yer gonna have to fight smart, otherwise there's a decent chance we all could buy it."

Colossus closed his eyes, and reverted to his human form. "I understand. It is just… in the dream, Katya seemed to be taking the place of my little snowflake. We know that when Illyana had lost her powers, her armor and sword transferred to Kitty. I am worried that he may see her as a replacement for my sister, will try to corrupt her as well. To do those same horrible things to my Katya as he did to my sister."

The hirsute Canadian looked up into pained blue eyes and nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. It's definitely the scumbag's style. So we jus' gotta make sure that doesn't happen."

"I tell you this, my friend. Should he even touch her, I do not care what sorcerous powers he may have at his disposal, I will rip his blackened heart from his chest and crush it before his eyes." His tone was deadly serious.

"Assumin', of course, he even has a heart."

Suddenly, the short man sniffed at the air. Six gleaming claws burst from his knuckles, and his head jerked from side to side. "Heads up, Petey, you may be getting yer wish."

* * *

Beep BEEP BEEP 

"Wha-?" He'd barely closed his eyes, but Nightcrawler was awake instantly, and leapt out of bed. He reached over to the communicator and clicked it. "I'm up, I'll be right down."

Instead of Rachel, however, the X-link buzzed with Emma's voice, "All available X-men please report to the North Woods. Repeat, all available X-men report to the North Woods. Large scale attack in progress." None of the woman's normal sarcasm was present- indicating just how grave the threat was.

He threw on his costume as fast as possible and ported out to the coordinates indicated.

"_Mein Gott."_

A huge, blinding white circle had opened in the sky, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of creatures in every shape, size and color were pouring out. Bat-winged demons with simian faces took to the sky, screeching as they went. Four-legged beasts with serpent heads and scorpion tails hit the ground running. Dozens of hairy human-sized monsters with goat legs, razor-like claws, and three inch fangs strode purposefully into the snow. Imps and goblins, gnolls and efreets, fiends and trolls marched forth. Nightcrawler realized that he would need more than his fists, and quickly bamfed back to his room to grab some swords to arm himself against the horde.

Although he made the trip in a matter of seconds, he materialized to see other X-men racing onto the field. Cyclops had taken up position about halfway between the mansion and the oncoming horde, and his optic blasts were pulsing from his visor, rapidly picking off multiple targets at the vanguard of the oncoming horde. Kurt saw immediately that the crimson bolts were full power as the demons burst apart on contact; Scott wasn't messing around.

_-Kurt, our right flank is exposed, get over there_-. Emma was transmitting Scott's orders telepathically, probably- by the slightest of echoes - with assistance of the Cuckoos. He responded with a quick 'port to the designated area, ducking immediately under a claw strike from a scaly ursinoid. He lunged with one of his sabers, felt the sickening thud as the blade pierced something vital. The Lizard-bear shuddered and started to fall, but he couldn't stick around to watch, as three goblins were jumping at him from behind. A burst of sulfur and brimstone, and he was behind them, hewing off their misshapen heads with deft swipes of his two blades. While parrying the swipe of one of the goat-legged creatures, he thought he got a glimpse of Colossus near the glowing circle at the heart of the assault. A few meters away, he saw demon limbs and heads go flying in every direction. Although he was obscured from view, he was sure it was Wolverine's work.

_-Rogue, take command of the fliers – Celeste will patch you in_-.

"Gotcha. Ah'm on it." She said it aloud, unnecessarily she knew. She sent the thought to Celeste, one of the Stepford Cuckoos. _Are we good?_

_-Go ahead.-_ came the simple reply.

_-Thanks. Sam, you're with me on the left. Blast through some of those winged freaks, I'll follow up with the flame. Angel?-_

Warren had come winging out of the Institute carrying a sword. _-I'm here. Where do you want me?-_

Right side of the formation. -_If it's ugly as sin, and in the air, cut it down. Ray, you there, girl?-_

_-Yep, do you want me to take over the mindlink?-_ Rachel was using her telekinesis to propel herself in the air. She sounded a little sullen in Rogue's head, possibly slighted that Emma and her prize students were handling the telepathic duties in the battle.

Rogue winced. Not time for hurt feelings here, especially the bad blood between Rachel and Emma Frost. _-Negative. I need you focus everything on your teke. Stay right with Angel, and shield anyone who may need it.-_

Her orders given, the young woman unleashed the full force of her nuclear fire on a flight of harpies, incinerating them. And still, there were more.

* * *

Colossus was pounding his way through the monsters methodically. Logan's words from before remained in his head- that he needed to keep his temper and focus on the task at hand. He slammed two imps together so hard they fused into a single – dead – creature. Countless bodies lie strewn about him, and several times he found himself nearly slipping on the ichor that seemed to coat everything. He grabbed the arm of a mauve colored fiend and used it as a flail to clear some room around him, dashing the thing to pieces in the process. He flung the last remaining limb at a fourteen-foot tall demon that had just emerged from the portal, hitting it in the face and sending it toppling over.

* * *

"Raven, catch!" 

Mystique turned and caught the tricked out pulse rifle. "Gifts, Forge? Trying to rekindle something?"

"Just shoot anything non-human." The mutant inventor didn't bother to keep his scorn from his voice.

"Whatever you say, dear," the blue skinned woman laughed, and took sight.

* * *

Wolverine lived for moments like this, as much as he hated to admit it. His claws left green and purple and black streaks arcing through the air around him, as he sunk further into a feral state. His own blood flowed from numerous cuts, bites and scratches- nothing too bad, nothing his healing talent couldn't cope with. He sliced one of the dog things in half, even as he kicked a goat-legs in the midsection, setting up its decapitation with his next strike, 

He felt a slight atmospheric overpressure, and dropped to the ground, sweeping the legs from out under an imp as he did so. A split second later, one of Havok's plasma bolts came streaming by less than a foot over his prone body, disintegrating most of his current batch of playmates.

_-Hey kid! How about a head's up next time_?-

_-Sorry, Logan. Didn't see you among the creepy crawlies.- _Alex responded.

_-That some sort of short joke, boy?-_

Emma Frost cut in. _-It isn't Alexander's fault, Logan. I've been trying to patch into you for the last minute. You are nearly impossible to reach in your berzerker state.-_

* * *

Emma knew there would be days like this, but that didn't make it any more palatable. All these… things… reminded her of that blasted Inferno business, which she hadn't been surprised to learn later had been all Jean Grey's fault. Well, her clone, anyway, so no appreciable difference. 

She was at the mansion, trying to keep her students in line. Surge had shouted orders, but X-23 had run into the fray regardless. No great loss there, but Julian had some affection for the girl, and had nearly gotten up to the rank with Scott, Alexander, and Nathan, who were serving as the artillery. On top of that, the strain of maintaining the telepathic relay, even with the help of two of her girls, was giving her a headache. To constantly monitor the thoughts of all the participants in the battle, realize when they were trying to communicate with someone, and then to connect them only with the people who needed that information was a complicated process, but made her feel like a glorified telephone operator. She was surprised to find an urge to transform to her diamond form and go smash some of those creatures that dared to ruin her evening. Bloodlust did not become one of her breeding.

Cyclops surveyed the battlefield using his mind's unique spatial ability. Things weren't going well. Warpath, Shadowcat and X-23 had all reached the front lines, but the odds were overwhelming. He'd had Nightcrawler clear out people a few times so he or his brother could fire off a more substantial blast, but they didn't seem to be making any real progress. 

_-We need to shut that portal – now – before we lose the last of the light. I'm open to ideas_.- He sent the thought to everyone.

_-Telekinesis doesn't seem to work – I tried_- came Rachel's thought. _-Magic seems to disrupt it. Sorry_.-

Polaris chipped in, _-Ditto for my magnetic waves.-_

_-I could try, but the spell I'm thinking of would take an hour of chanting and I can't guarantee it would work.- _Forge's thought was edgy. -_Or that we wouldn't be overrun in the process.-_

_-I'll keep it in mind, anyway. Kurt, can you get Proudstar over about twenty feet to the south? Thanks._- He paused, watching for the telltale sign, then sent a wide beam over where Warpath had just stood. _-Bobby, can you surround the thing with ice?-_

_-Yessir, boss man. You'll want to clear out the grunts first.-_

_-Kurt, immediate evac! Pick 'em all up, bring 'em back here.- _ Given the way Rachel and Lorna had failed, he didn't have great faith in the plan, but they needed to stem the tide. He'd put in a radio call to New York, asking for help from Storm, but they were at least ten minutes away by Fantasticar.

_-Scott!_ _I can't get Logan or Peter!- _Kurt's thought was panicked. _-They're in the middle of that and I can't get close.-_

_-I'll get them.- _Kitty's voice was determined, and she started to run towards the mêlée once again.

_-Nyet! There is no time!- _There was urgency in the mental "voice" of Colossus.

_-No way!- _Kitty thought at him, _-No freaking way you pull this crap on me right now!-_

_-He's right, punk'n. These suckers can't hurt him, and you know I can take care of myself. Have Frosty do his thing. You can collect us after we've been popsicled.-_

Cyclops ended the argument with a terse thought. _-Do it.-_

Iceman extended his arms at the teleportation circle, now grown to twenty feet in height. Waves of white-blue cold hit thirty yards in front of it, starting in a trench that Magma had created at Scott's behest, and continuing to create a dome sixty yards in diameter.

"Keep it up, Bobby, I want those walls fifteen feet thick." Cyclops had moved up next to his friend. "Then you can go get our boys out, Kitty."

Kitty's eyes expressed her worry, and she was chewed nervously on her bottom lip.

"We still have to clean up the scraps." Scott said. _-Emma, patch me in to everyone. Thanks. Let's get the stragglers, and put 'em down. Forge, start that spell. Iceman, try to maintain that thickness. Magma, Rogue--_

_-I know, Scott. We'll keep the heat away from Bobby's pretty little ice sculpture.- _She indicated to Celeste to transmit to her fellow fliers. _-Rachel, push as many of them together as you can, line them up for Cannonball. Sam, do your thing, knock 'em to hell.-_

_-And me?- _Angel sent in the question.

_-Keep cutting them to ribbons. _Rogue thought, grimly.-

* * *

Cable switched his large rifle to full auto, and unloaded on a batch of hounds that had broken free. He swung around and sniped a couple harpies that were trailing Rogue. He looked over at some of the newer class –the spiky Thing knockoff - Rockslide - was battering his way through some goblins, and Surge, the Japanese kid, was showing some decent control over her electrical powers, frying an imp that had snuck up on her teammate, that Wolverine clone. Most of them were rightfully kept in reserve – Mercury, Dust, and Elixir had no business being out in this carnage. 

He thought briefly of how he had trained a previous generation of students into the paramilitary X-Force, and wondered idly how he'd go about forging these new kids into such a unit. Glancing at the devastation caused by his protégé Cannonball, he felt a surge of pride.

Out of the corner of his eye was Julian Keller, codenamed Hellion. A powerful telekinetic, incredibly charismatic. More ego than was good for him. Good, though, incredibly talented. He was crushing some of the monsters in huge fists of psionic energy, and holding back a dozen more with a shield. Cocky bastard, but incredibly talented.

A sudden movement behind Hellion caught Cable's attention. He trained his sight on it while shouting "Kid! Look out!"

* * *

Hellion was grimly advancing, wielding his power with the precision of a surgeon. He kept the creatures at bay before squeezing them to nothingness, each in turn. But one of the demon dogs, smaller than the others, masked by the encroaching darkness snuck behind his defenses. He heard someone yelling at him, but didn't realize the danger until his leg exploded with pain and he looked down at the fangs sunk deep in his calf. The beast exploded with Cable's shot, but the damage was done, Julian's concentration broken. Several more of the beasts leapt on him, tearing at his uniform and his flesh. 

Cable picked off a few, and saw the other members of his squad leap to his defense. Mercury had sprinted out, forming her hands into blades. X-23 had responded to the telepathic alert by ripping apart her current dance partners and racing back to Julian's side. Rockslide batted away a few of the demons that got in his way, and trampled the remainder underfoot, and even Dust's sand dorm created a shield that gave Josh Foley time to reach his wounded colleague's side.

Nathan noted that he was going to live, and returned to the fray.

* * *

Inside the ice dome, Colossus was hard-pressed. A new sort of demon had appeared, one that spat a highly corrosive acid that had scored his armored form. He couldn't see Logan, even in this enclosed space, and headed off in the direction of the loudest sounds, twisting the heads off the nearest two acid-spitters on his way.

* * *

Kitty had borrowed one of Nightcrawler's swords, and was hacking her way to the dome, phasing in and out to avoid attacks. The pain in her left arm indicated that she hadn't been entirely successful, and the similarity to her dream made her pause for a moment. She pushed forward with bleak determination.

* * *

Cyclops was trying to be patient as Forge chanted his spell. Bobby's dome was holding, so far, and they'd taken out most of the ones on the outside. The wounded were slowly making their way back to the mansion, either carried by telekinesis or magnetic waves, where Elixir and Dr. Reyes attended to them. Mystique sniped the last few demons with her rifle. It was getting too dark- the lights from the mansion weren't bright enough to keep track of everything if containment failed. 

The sounds from inside the ice were not promising, as it reverberated and shook with incredible force. "Heads up, everyone. Round two may be starting."

* * *

He was wearing down. He knew it – too much blood loss, no time to catch a breath. His arms felt like lead. The only advantage was it was so packed inside that only a few of the critters could get at him. He gutted one of the goat-legs and lifted it in the path of a flame-breather. He'd taken a glancing hit from one of those a while back, and the smell of his own cooked flesh assaulted his nostrils. The cold was seeping into his muscles, even as he disemboweled a pig headed troll thing. 

"Logan!" Petey's voice wasn't far away, but too far to be of any good. Acid burned his back, eating away his muscles and setting his nerves on fire. When he turned, a huge demon, twice his own size, grabbed him and bit deeply into his arm, tearing away much of his bicep. He gritted his teeth and stabbed the thing in its eyes with his other hand.

* * *

_-Katherine, darling, you would do well to pick up your pace a bit. Your father figure is in rather dire straits, and your _amour dans l'armure_ isn't doing much better.-_

Shadowcat had reached the icy barrier, pushing through without hesitation into a scene of complete and utter chaos. From one end to the other, there were demons. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, even head to toe, crawling on top of one another, and she could scarcely find room to breathe. She ducked under an efreet's gob of eldritch flame, which exploded against the ice. This was being repeated all over, with streaks of fire streaming this way and that, without regard for several of their own side that had been in the way. Kitty looked down to see that the ground was a slushy mess, with ankle-high water that started to cover the bodies of the fallen. -_I can't see anything in here. Can you pinpoint Peter or Logan?-_

Emma's return thought was less than normal, in response to the young woman's growing desperation. -_Colossus is about twenty-five feet away, northwest of your position. I can't get a fix on Logan- his thoughts are weak and disjointed.-_

_-I hope Peter knows where he is.- _ She climbed a bit, airwalking about the mêlée to get a better view. She quickly picked out her lover's silvery form, smoldering and covered with ichor, and ran to him.

"Peter!"

"Katya! It is good to see you!" he called back, above the din of screeches and howls, "Help me retrieve Wolverine – he is somewhere over that way!" With that, he punched through one of the larger pig-headed monsters, got a grip and hurled the body to the ground with such force that the shockwave momentarily cleared a path. They could see their friend crumpled on the ground, beaten and bloodied, and at risk of drowning in the rapidly rising water.

"Oh Wolvie!" Kitty exclaimed, taking the hand of Colossus and rendering them both intangible. "Pete, grab us both and get us the hell out of here!"

Behind them, the portal had grown to a diameter of thirty feet, and began to pulse wildly. Large shadows began to coalesce in the middle. Seeing this, the large armored Russian waited as Kitty touched Logan, phasing him to the same degree of insubstantiality as them, and then picked them both up. He ran quickly towards the deteriorating icewall, and then, with supreme effort, launched himself and his precious cargo into the air,

* * *

_-Emma, any updates? What's happening in there?- _Scott was concerned, and peered through the darkness for any sign of them. -_Kitty's been in there too long…-_

_-Patience, dear. It's only been a few minutes. But we do have our medical staff ready when they come out.- _There was a pause, and then her crisp mental voice came again, _-Lorna, could you be a dear and catch our companions? It appears Mr. Rasputin is taking his Hulk fixation a bit far.-_

Lorna reached out, sensing the magnetic fields around the dome. Suddenly, there was a disturbance high about the ground – the organic steel body of Colossus and the adamantium skeleton of Wolverine appeared to her like flares in the night, and she carefully guided them back to the fold.

"Um, Cyke?" Iceman began, "I can't keep this up much longer… it's gonna…"

_-SHIELDS NOW!_- Scott yelled over the psilink.

The dome of ice exploded into deadly fragments of ice.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the mansion, Amanda's eyes shot open. She tried to leap out of the bed, only to get tangled in the IV connected to her arm. 

Dark magic was afoot. She could taste it.

Well that, and the sedative she'd been given made her mouth taste like cabbage-flavored cotton candy.

* * *

The mass of demons was within the boundaries of the dome, a frightening mass of evil made all the more eerie in the shadows cast by the mansion's lights. In their center, five times his normal size and glowing a dull red color, was a horned, robed figure. 

"BELASCO!" roared Colossus, and had to be immediately restrained by Polaris and Rachel.

"Ah, the _heroes_," he began. They could barely make it out, but it certainly looked like he was smiling. "I will ask but once. Return the usurper to me, and my minions and I will depart for now. You will then have a few days – perhaps even a week – to make peace with yourselves, enjoy the last few precious moments of your insignificant lives before my masters consume your world."

His hands seemed to catch fire, but did not seem to cast any light, but rather seemed to make the area around him darker. "If you choose not to return the woman to me, I will simply destroy you now."

_-On my signal…-_ Cyclops sent. "You should know our answer, Belasco!" the leader of the X-men yelled back.

"I did, little man. But courtesy demanded the offer be made." He raised his hands above his head, the reddish-black flame blotting out the remaining light. "Now, my pets, destroy them all!"

_Amara, you know what to do._

Magma's outstretched hands suddenly lifted up, and the outer rim of the trench she'd created earlier shot up to become a barrier of solid stone.

"Fool!" boomed Belasco, "You think your little wall can stop me!"

"Maybe not. But it is holding in all that water you just melted."

Above them all, heavy clouds had been gathering, and in a blinding flash, a huge thunderbolt came crashing down into the middle of the former dome, it's energy quickly carrying to all the creatures within. Bolt after bolt came raining down, and soon only the huge shape of Belasco remained standing. And he was laughing.

"Ah, the windrider. I've almost missed you." The smile was made more evident by the flashes of lightning. "I see you still trifle with your mundane mutant abilities, and haven't yet sought out your true, magickal heritage."

Storm floated gently down, next to Cyclops. "I have not missed you, Demon. And my 'mundane' mutant abilities just disposed of your army."

"Feh. A paltry effort, at best. These are but the least of my minions."

"So you say." Ororo challenged back.

"He's not lying. About that, anyway. He's got lots nastier." came a voice from the mansion door.

"Amanda!" Kurt exclaimed, rushing to her side. "You should not be up."

She smiled, weakly. "How can I sleep with all this racket going on? Besides, you need me. From the sound of Forge's chant, he's more likely to turn the lawn to Roquefort cheese than close that portal."

"Hey," snarled Forge, disrupting his spell. "I became an inventor so I wouldn't have to do this shaman crap." He stroked his chin, "I think you're right, though. I'm fairly sure I transposed a couple words a few minutes ago."

"Now, harlot," Belasco grinned, "Are you ready to challenge me?" He rose to his full, thirty foot height.

"First things first," she began. She waved her hands in the air, nimble fingers tracing an intricate pattern as she spoke her words of power. Behind the demon lord, the portal seemed to ripple and flux. It shuddered, and then just evaporated into the night air. "We ought to keep this to just ourselves."

"Ah, you maintain some connection to the stepping discs. I suspected as much. That will be remedied soon."

"Bring it on!" Amanda snarled, her hands alight with mystical power. She paused, peering closely. "But you can't, can you? You're just a shade, here to test us. That's all this was- you were taking our measure."

"Perceptive wench," he said with a smirk, "For all the good it will do you. I have tested those who wear the X, and have found them to be adequate amusement – here, away from my seat of power. But in Limbo, I reign supreme once more, and no one is left to stop me. Not you, and not my one time apprentice." He held out a humongous hand, and in his palm as a cage of solid energy. Inside was a blonde, teenaged girl, her body wracked by pain.

"Illyana Nikolievna?" Peter's voice was barely a whisper.

Amanda put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. "It's an illusion, Pete. A sick, twisted image from a sick, twisted mind."

"Perhaps," Belasco smiled, "But then, you haven't always been entirely forthright with these mutants either, have you, my dear? Why don't you tell them the whole story?"

"Begone!" she cried out, hurling the spell she'd been crafting dead into the chest of the giant. It disintegrated into so much ectoplasm.

She turned to see dozens of eyes on her. "I guess I should start at the beginning, huh?"


	3. Girding for Battle

Piotr Rasputin paced the floor. He'd changed into a super sized set of Institute sweats, but had remained in his armored form. There were pockmarks and scoring from the acid to which he'd be subjected, but he had eschewed healing until everyone else had their turn. Elixir had struggled with the job- many of the X-men had suffered at least minor injuries, and the magickal nature of their attackers had caused their wounds to fester in a way that had been difficult to compensate for. Josh had passed out trying to heal Wolverine, who had lost most of his arm, had much of his back burned away, and several other potentially deadly wounds. The student was now deep asleep, and Logan himself was down in the medlab, having slipped into a healing coma. In many ways, Peter was glad to be stuck in his changeform – it helped to control his emotional state, which right now was not in the best of shapes. He continued his attempt to wear through the floorboards.

Amanda was sitting in one of the high-backed Shi'ar designed chair in the briefing room, sipping the herbal tea that Kurt had just handed her. She'd told her story twice now, and it had only made the situation seem more dire. Yes, there had been dimensional rifts and quakes for a while now, and that had resulted in some of Nightcrawler's recent missions involving demons and ghosts in subways. No, she could not say with any certainty if Belasco's return was the cause of the disturbances or just another corollary. It was true that there had been a fundamental shift in the balance of power in the multiverse, but there had been several incidents that could have caused or contributed to this – the destruction of Asgard, the Annihilation wave, some messiness involving Dormammu and Umar, even the events that had preceding the so-called "M-Day", of which Amanda knew only that Roma's Otherworld had been highly concerned about. It may even have been tied into some of the machinations of the mad Titan, Thanos, especially given his use of the Infinity Gauntlet.

Most importantly to Peter, no, she could not say that the blonde girl in pain that Belasco had shown them had truly been his sister Illyana. Like his masters, the demon lord had no compunctions about twisting facts and appearances for his own amusement, often preferring that to an outright lie. She could say that he would not say anything unless it would advance his own agenda.

"So," Scott began when Amanda had finished. "It's a trap."

Peter snapped at him, his patience failing, "I do not care!"

"I know," his team leader replied with a shrug. "And we're still going. I just wanted to put that out on the table. We X-men have sprung our fair share of villains' traps, and we're still around."

"The problem, sugah," Rogue said, peering thoughtfully over the top of folded hands, "is that most of them're still around too."

The room fell silent for a moment as the assembled mutants considered her words. Rogue's squad was certainly known for taking a more definitive and sometimes lethal approach to their enemies. They waited for a patented "the X-men aren't killers" speech from Cyclops.

"Agreed." Several jaws dropped at his reply. "And normally, I would argue that it isn't necessarily a bad thing. But this situation requires more finality than our standard procedure."

"So, you want us to handle it?"

Behind his ruby quartz glasses, Scott's face was stony as he considered her offer. "No. I want volunteers – but before you do, you have to make your case to me. I don't want to give him exactly what he wants."

He turned to Amanda, "I'd like your input on this, Miss Sefton."

She nodded.

"I am going." Colossus spoke resolutely.

"I'm not sure-"

"We are going," Kitty said, grabbing Peter's arm and staring down Cyclops. She peeked up at her boyfriend, who was looking down at her, his face serious. Then, as he looked into her golden-brown eyes, his face softened, and he nodded.

"_Da_," he said, "We are going, together."

Scott looked hard at the pair, and then at the strawberry blonde witch on his right. She shrugged, "It's a crapshoot, honestly. He seems to be deliberately baiting Pete and Kitty, but he also knows that we'll expect that it's a trap. Since they have a lot of experience in Limbo, and since Peter's armor has an iron analogue that can hurt some of the nasties down there, he may be trying to get us to keep them here on Earth, to remove the threat they represent. But, he could have thought of that as well…"

"And never go up against a Sicilian, when death is on the line…" Kitty muttered.

"What was that, Kitty?"

She rolled her eyes, "Nothing, Cyclops. Just a joke."

Amanda continued, "I would let them go if they want. They have the right motivation, the lay of the land, and, as you said, it isn't like you'd be walking blind into whatever he has prepared."

"I'm in too!" Rachel said, standing up. "Those buggers out there may not have had much of a psyche to affect, but I'm guessing that Belasco does. And they could definitely use someone of my power… not to mention that there is no way in hell that I'm abandoning Kitty and Peter."

Wordlessly, Kitty embraced her friend, and Colossus joined in, wrapping his large arms around them both. All three heads turned to Rachel's "father", to gauge his reaction.

"O.K., you're in," he said, with a hint of worry in his voice. "We still need a team leader – I'm sorry, Shadowcat, I know you're capable enough, but I think you're far too involved in this to keep it completely objective."

"I think you should do it, Kurt." It was Amanda, standing up and crossing the floor to her ex-boyfriend and dear friend. She took his arm in hers and leaned in close, earning a dark look from Rachel. She continued, "Fuzzy, you've been down there enough. You've fought him. I know you're frightened-"

"I most certainly am n-"

"-of what he did to a version of you, but I also know you need to prove to yourself that what happened to your doppelganger isn't going to happen to you, that you're made of sterner stuff than that. Kitty, Rachel, Pete and I have all fought with you in Excalibur and trust you implicitly." She'd turned to stare into his yellow eyes. "I need you there, dear heart. Will you do it, for me?"

He looked at her, and then, with a flourish, bowed deeply. "As my lady desires."

"I'm sorry, Miss Sefton – Amanda," Scott said, his brow furrowed. ""But did you say you were going? I would have thought, with your injuries- ?"

"Limbo is my responsibility, Mr. Summers. If Belasco really does have Illyana, and she wants that hellhole back, then I'll happily let her have it, but right now, I am not only the most qualified, I am also the only one with the directions."

Cecilia responded to a look from Cyclops with a shrug, "She's still got a low-grade fever that I haven't been able to treat, but other than that, she's got a clean bill of health from me."

"All right. That's five. Who else?"

Taken aback by her foster sister's behavior, Kurt found himself watching her as she resumed her position at the table. She was deep in concentration, focusing on each volunteer, and there was no shortage of those.

Cannonball had made his case – saying that the New Mutants took care of their own – but had been rejected as being too valuable in the event of a large scale demonic invasion. He suspected, however, that the real reason was that, after what had happened to Josh, Cylcops was unwilling to send another Guthrie into a near death situation. Cable had been dismissed, as his technologically based powers were not particularly conducive to a magickal environment. Rogue's leadership was too important to risk, Havok and Polaris didn't have the experience of being in Limbo, and Iceman, for all his power, just didn't seem to have the right temperament for the mission.

Wolverine was nominated in absentia, as everyone knew he would expect to go. It was tabled for the moment – unless either his vaunted healing factor or the talent of Elixir brought him around in time, he would be sidelined.

There was a tense moment when Storm insisted that she would also be coming along, that she had her own score to settle with Belasco. Eventually, it was Ben Grimm that prevailed on her, reminding her that she and her husband had certain responsibilities while Reed and Sue continued to work out their issues. That, and a reminder that, should the master of Limbo so wish it, there might not even be elements for her to manipulate.

There was one reason or another that disqualified the remainder of the applicants, and the team stood at its first five members. Kurt and Scott met briefly afterwards, when the room had cleared.

"Where will you start?"

Nightcrawler stroked his chin thoughtfully, "I have a few ideas. Some calls to make, some favors to cash in. I want to have a few surprises in store."

"It will be tough if Logan can't make it. I have an idea for a possible replacement. If you say so, I'll try to arrange it."

"_Danke._ I trust your judgment." He yawned. "Now, I need to get a little sleep. Can you see that a Blackbird is ready to go in four hours."

Scott placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and looked at him very intently. "Take eight. You know you need it."

Kurt started to object, but his body's need for sleep betrayed him. "_Ja._ You are right. _Gute Nacht_."

With a burst of sulfur and brimstone, he was gone.

* * *

He reappeared in his room. He pulled off the top to his costume wearily and prepared to fall on his bed when he was suddenly pulled into a fierce embrace and a passionate kiss.

"Hey, sexy…I thought you'd never come to bed!"

"_Vas--?"_

* * *

The Blackbird hovered silently over a brownstone on Bleeker Street. The assembled team was dressed in civilian outfits, but their sober faces belied any sense that this was a casual undertaking.

"Shall we go down?" Kurt asked, "Dr. Strange said he would meet us on the roof, since I can't teleport past his wards. I would like to get this done quickly, before we disturb Greenwich Village even more than necessary." He offered up his three-fingered hands, which were immediately grasped by Colossus and Shadowcat. "Be back in a minute!" he called to Rachel and Amanda, and with a bamf of imploding air, they vanished.

"You're looking a bit tired there this morning. Did you sleep well?" Rachel asked her companion in a polite manner, but her eyes were stony, hard as agates. She knew she was jealous – Amanda had a special place in Kurt's heart, and she was honest enough with herself to admit that she hoped to be just as cherished. Before they had blasted off to space after Vulcan, she and he had flirted heavily. That had been derailed a bit, but during that mission, when Korvus – she shuddered at the memory, her eyes moist. After, it was the fuzzy blue elf who had been critical in her keeping her sanity out there. He'd become almost as important to her as Kitty, and that he was being so solicitous of his foster sister gnawed at her.

**BAMF ! **"Ready, _meine schönen Damen?_ The Doctor is in." He moved to take their hands, "Are you all right, Amanda? You are looking a little pale... is it your fever again?"

"Oh, sorry Kurt, I was just remembering the first time I met him – at your birthday, when my mother tried getting her revenge. I was totally in awe of him," she replied with a wan smile, "And to think, a week ago, I could have met him on equal footing, Sorceress Supreme of Limbo to Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. I wasn't always happy having to rule there, but now… it's kind of a painful loss of status."

"You'll always be a Sorceress Supreme to me," he replied gallantly, as Rachel glowered at them.

The redhead walked up and took his right hand, "Let's not keep the lovebirds waiting. You know what they are like when left alone too long."

"Oh but Rachel, sometimes it's fun to watch, and who knows, you might learn something!" The other woman giggled, and took Nightcrawler's left hand.

* * *

"Be mindful of my warnings, Nightcrawler, and guard that package well. Miss Sefton's Limbo is closed to my sight, and I fear that can portend naught but ill for you and your companions. I will be unable to aid you more than I have."

"Thank you, _Herr Doktor_," Kurt replied, shaking the man's hand. "Your assistance and insight has been most welcome. I only pray we have enough."

Stephen Strange nodded. "Your faith does you credit, my friend, and your heart is strong. Be mindful of both in your coming task."

Looking quizzically at the Sorcerer, Kurt Wagner shrugged, passing it off as one of those weird wizardry things. Before he could use his mutant power, a word from Dr. Strange restored them all to the Blackbird, and a minute later they were screaming across the Atlantic, heading for England.

* * *

Dane Whitman held up the device he was working on. "The design's not to my liking, but from what Brian tells me it'll be right up your alley. I've tuned the neural disruption level to be easily adjusted with the hilt controls, and you can reverse the energy stream by hitting this button, like so. It's recessed, so you won't lose the blade mid-parry."

"So, Kitty, what do you think?" Brian boomed. "Two photonic katanas for the intangible ninja on the go."

Kitty took the proffered weapons. "Thank you, Mr. Whitman. These will be just perfect. The way you've compensated for my phasing talent is remarkable." She flipped a switch and a three foot blade of glowing blue energy erupted from the hilt, crackling with power. She fell into her stance, and flowed through a series of movements to get the feel of the device.

"The multiphasic shift was a bit tricky, but it should work in theory. You've probably noticed that the balance will take some getting used to. It did for me. They're lighter than anything you've fought with before, and they aren't the most stylish things I've made, but they should get the job done. I only wish it weren't such a rush job – we lucked out that I had a pair of prototypes here in the shop." The Black Knight smiled a bit. "And please, call me Dane."

"I'm in your debt, Dane. And yours too, Brian. I'll need every advantage I can get where we're going."

"And where might that be, luv?" a whisky-soaked voice asked. "What terrible battles are plaguing our American cousins nowadays?"

"Hello, Pete," she replied evenly, "you're looking… disheveled as usual."

"Special trip to Britain twice in a year? Face it, Pryde, you can't stay away from me."

"Listen, Pete-" she began, and then glanced over at Captain Britain and the Black Knight. Brian nodded, and escorted his friend out of the lab to give the two mutants some privacy. "This isn't going to work. It's over between us, and no amount of 'petal'-ing or 'luv'-ing or 'my sweet'-ness is going to change that. You left, and I moved on. You know this."

If Pete felt rebuffed, he didn't let it show. "C'mon now, m'pet. Don't be like this. I've admitted to my mistake, I've changed. I've even quit my cigs. I can almost smell again, and I hardly ever lose my breath walking up the stairs. Maybe I got a little scared back on Muir, but it was a new situation for me."

"Pete-"

"Pryde-"

"Pete, listen, please. I don't want things to be like this. I don't want to hate you and I don't want you to hate me, but you've got to accept there's no 'us' to go back to. Not now. And maybe not then. Emma told me about you calling before that one mission, and it kinda creeped me out a bit. I know you aren't big on the whole rules of social interaction, but that sort of thing generally gets filed under 'stalking'." Kitty's voice kept its measured tone, but she felt a knot in the bottom of her stomach, and her left leg was starting to tremble from a slight surge in adrenaline.

"What, it's stalking to ring up an old mate before you go on a life-or-death mission now, is it?" His tone was light and sardonic, "I'll have to remember that."

She shook her head, "All our missions are life or death. I've been doing that since I was thirteen. And you never called before, did you? Not even to say, 'Oh, about that being dead thing, that was just a gag'."

"Speaking of which, I was downright hurt when you didn't show up at my funeral."

Kitty frowned, taken aback momentarily. "I can't say I recall now. I'm sure it was something important, one of those world threats. Or maybe I was washing my hair."

"Ouch. That's cold, Pryde."

"I'm sorry, Pete, but you're going to hold my absence at your fake funeral against me? Were you hiding in the back looking for me to see if I was going to cry over you? Is that it? Well, I did. I always do. For Doug, for you, for Larry, for Illyana and Peter. I cry even when I should have no more tears left." Evidence of this was welling around her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.

Pete stepped forward, reaching out, "There, there petal-"

"Don't you dare!" she retorted, "You unbelievable bastard! You faked your death! Do you know what that does to someone? What it did to me?"

"Touched a nerve, did I?" he said, with a slight smirk on his face. "Always did admire your passion…"

He froze mid-sentence, as the glowing blade appeared scant centimeters from his neck. Her tone was flat, but her eyes betrayed her anger. "You don't get it, do you? You never did. You really don't understand why I might be a tad sensitive about people I care about faking their own deaths." She deactivated the katana and hung her head.

"Christ, girl, what's got your knickers in a twist? It isn't like your life isn't replete with spandex soldiers checking in and out of the afterlife now, is it? If it broke your heart, I'm sorry, but at the time, it needed doing."

"That's all it ever is for you, isn't it? Just a job you do? Wearing the same suit, drinking the same cheap whisky, just the same shit, different day? Is that the sum and total of your existence, nothing more?"

Wisdom raked his fingers through his black hair absently. "I thought there might've been, once. Turned out I was wrong. But then, unless I missed you receiving your Nobel Prize, it doesn't exactly look like you've become the poster child for personal growth. Hell, Kit, you even let yourself get dragged back to that bloody school for mutants. It isn't even that you're not moving forward, you've seriously regressed!"

Kitty stepped back as if she'd been slapped. Feigning nonchalance, she carefully adjusted her shirt before answering. "You're wrong, you know. I have grown. I'm not the wide-eyed kid I was when I first came to that 'bloody school'. And I'm no longer the sarcastic teen I was in Excalibur, playing at adulthood. I'm a teacher now, helping to educate the next generation of mutants – those that are left, anyway. I don't skulk in the shadows at the edges of society anymore. I'm in the public eye, actually trying to make the dream a reality. I know that may seem naïve to you. And if it does, you know, I feel sorry for you."

"This doesn't sound like the girl I remember. That time you spent in university made you soft, filled your pretty little head with visions of sugarplums and cloud-borne castles. Me, I prefer living in the real world, and not waste my time with the daft fantasies of a mutant Gandhi wannabe."

"Insulting the Professor is not the best way to endear yourself to people. Not unless you've gone and joined the Friends of Humanity or the Sapien League on me." She paused, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "This is pointless. Why are we even arguing, aside from force of habit?"

Pete managed a crooked, but genuine, smile, "Don't tell me you don't miss this. Has there ever been a guy in your life who would keep you on your toes like I would? Before you hooked up with me, there was no rhythm to your repartee, no zest to your zinger. But I trained you, so that your tongue was at least as deadly as the rest of you." He laughed, a short, abrupt sound. "You've gone rusty in my absence."

"So you were the Henry Higgins of snappy patter, and I some sort of ingénue Eliza Doolittle? I do OK by myself, and I have been reminded that hiding behind a façade of sarcasm and snarkiness doesn't make you any better than everyone else- it just keeps you separate – and alone." Kitty felt drained by the conversation, and her shoulders sagged. "I find I feel better being part of a family, rather than maintaining only tangential association so it doesn't crimp some misguided sense of style."

An awkward silence fell between them, as they each looked for the right words. Wisdom had something on his mind, she knew that much. She wished he would just get it out in the open. He didn't know- he couldn't know about her and- unless Sage told him? Would she do that? Would that ever be the logical thing?

Pete shuffled his feet a bit. "So, how's the social life working out for you then? Are you-" there was a brief hesitation, and Kitty prayed the next words would never come- "Are you seeing anyone?"

Kitty swallowed. She did not want to go through this right now, but given the mission, there might not be another time, and she couldn't leave things unfinished. "Assuming you're asking in the spirit of friendship, and that you aren't going to be a jealous git about it- yes. I am… seeing someone… right now."

"Anyone I know?"

The question was asked so casually that she could almost pretend it was innocent., but her mind was screaming at her – _He knows! He's just trying to make you say the words out loud!_

She chose her words carefully, all the while idly examining the cuticles on her right hand. "Why, yes. I believe so. One of your former teammates in fact." A dramatic pause followed, as she tried to gauge his reaction. "I'm sure you remember Cannonball…"

"I knew it!" Pete exclaimed, "How could you? That tin-plated tosser nearly kills me, and he isn't back from beyond the grave five minutes and you jump into bed with him. Dammit, I thought you had better taste than that, I mean what the hell were you did you say Cannonball?"

"Yep, me and Sam go way back." She wasn't enjoying this. Not one bit. But if Pete wanted to dance, she could do that.

Pete, as usual, didn't stay flustered. "Sam? Really. I would not have seen that coming. I suppose more of me rubbed off on the kid than I had thought. And here I had been told you had gotten all horizontal with that resurrected Russian retread. I'm glad to hear it isn't so, and you didn't go and dig up that fossilized relationship."

She shook her head, "Pete, I told you I don't want to fight. Yes, I'm with Peter now. You either deal with that, and we can be friends, or you don't and we can't. It's that simple."

"Listen, Pryde, I'm not saying he isn't a decent enough bloke…"

"And just what are you saying then, Pete?" she challenged.

Wisdom frowned. "I just think you can do better."

"You think so? With whom - you?"

He managed a shrug, "Well, the thought did occur."

Kitty sighed heavily. "This is what I really wanted to avoid. You're not a bad man. You may pretend you are sometimes, but you're not. I don't know why- to keep people away, to keep from getting hurt, whatever. But we don't work. We don't have the same interests. We don't have the same priorities. You love your country- that's your focus. You may hate the word but you are a patriot- you'll probably die for England someday. For real, this time. And, quite frankly, my interests aren't that parochial. I'd hoped that your time in Excalibur would have shown you that there is a larger world out there, that there are many more things that need doing than following orders from shady men in British intelligence. But you seem satisfied with your lot."

She smiled sadly, "I need to be more than that. I couldn't live in your world, even if I wanted to. I care for you, Pete. Deeply. More than I want to. But I don't love you now. I don't know if I did then, but it doesn't matter now… I do love Peter. I have since I was a kid, and now that has grown to a real- an adult- relationship. I know better than to ask for your blessing, and I don't need it. I've grown up, and I'm doing what makes me happy. If that hurts, well, maybe it's time you grew up too."

"To the quick, she cuts me, to the quick!" Wisdom quipped, in that self-mocking style that tugged even yet at her heartstrings. "And you're right- at least about one thing- this isn't the time for a spat. Are you going to tell me what the job is?"

"What job?"

"Don't be coy, Pryde. You were saying that you were going somewhere, hinting that it was dangerous, and I'm damn sure you didn't have Whitman cobble up those Jedi Ninja laser knives to bust open piñatas. Now I'm asking – what's the job?"

The pair locked eyes, the tension between them palpable. The question hung there for a moment, as Kitty tried to sort out her thoughts.

Finally, with a shudder, she spoke softly, "I appreciate the thought, I really do. But this isn't your fight."

"By the sound of things, I think it is."

"You really believe that," she smiled, "and that's sweet of you. But where I'm going, you can't."

"Oh?" Wisdom snarled, "And I suppose Rasputin can?"

"It's not like that – in many ways, this is his fight much more than mine."

"And yet he's bringing you along on this apparently exceedingly dangerous situation? I thought he was your knight in shining bloody armor."

Kitty smirked, thinking back, "Who said I gave him a choice? He doesn't like the idea, but he knows better than to try to stop me. He probably remembers a certain request from Nick Fury."

Pete shrugged, "I still don't see how it matters. If it's your mission or his, I'm still coming along."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I-"

"Will you shut up and listen? This is one of those one-way only jobs. Peter and I are involved because we couldn't possibly have a more important or personal mission. Kurt and Amanda also have a big stake in this, and a history. As for Rachel, she's my best friend, and one of the most powerful psis on the planet. I couldn't begin to think about keeping her out." Her voice was fierce, "But I can keep you out. I can phase you down into a cave or a vault and be long gone before you've burned your way free. I can-"

"Don't be silly, Pryde. Just accept the fact that I am coming with you to Limbo."

She didn't even flinch. "I suppose you expect me to be surprised that you figured it out, but I suppose you're kept well informed by WHO, RCX, MI-86 or whatever the shadowy organization you currently work for is going by nowadays."

With another slight shrug, Pete said, "I wasn't trying to surprise you. You're a bright girl, and you know what I do for a living when I'm not playing along with the pajama crowd. We've started getting whispers that Limbo – or Otherplace, since it's not true Immortus Limbo- that it could no longer be considered friendly to the Crown. And you have told me some of your history there. I may not have your brains, but I can handle sums like that."

"You're still not going."

"Yes," His voice got louder, "I am."

"No you're not!" Kitty said, nearly shouting. Regaining her composure, she continued, "And I am not going to sit here and do this- this thing we're doing. This isn't your fight, you are more vulnerable than the rest of us, and you don't have the experience every other member has. And I will not allow you to endanger yourself or this mission."

"Why the hell do you have to be so stubborn about this, Pryde?"

"Because I care about you, you stupid git," she burst out, nearly in tears. "And I'm not going to lose you when there's no need! Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy?"

"It doesn't hurt," he laughed. "Does the old ego a bit of good to hear it alou-unnngh!"

He crumpled to the floor, mild spasms still causing his extremities to twitch. Kitty deactivated the blade once more and ran back to the hangar, where her friends would be waiting.

* * *

"He'll wake up with a nasty headache, Brian, so be nice to him for a bit." Kitty said, giving the large man a kiss on the cheek. "At least until his sterling personality returns and you want to thump him on the head. I left him a note, but tell him I do care for him and that I'm sorry about the zap, but, well, 'it needed doing'."

"I will," Captain Britain replied, "You come back to us all, Katherine. All of you. And visit soon."

"Thank you, Brian. We'll be back, soon as we can." _If we can, if we get back. _She left the thought unsaid.

Over by the plane, Kurt was talking with his "daughter" from another dimension, Talia Josephine, or T.J. As Nocturne, she was a member of this new iteration of Excalibur, defending England and the world along with Captain Britain, Wisdom, Dazzler, Sage, and the Juggernaut, who was currently joking with Colossus about getting a chance to spar. Sage was deep in conversation with Rachel, trying to assimilate as much information as possible about Limbo to coordinate with the American teams should they fail in their quest.

After a round of hugs and well-wishing, the Blackbird was again taking off, its VTOL thrusters kicking up copious amounts of dust and debris.

"Where next, skipper?" Kitty queried from behind the yoke,

Nightcrawler was at the communications station, talking to Cyclops over the video link. He called out the order, "The Bermuda Triangle. We're going to Magneto's old hideout – if we're truly going to end this, why don't we start back at the beginning."

He added, "Scott's sending an old friend to meet us there."


	4. Triangles and Pentacles

All X-characters are Marvels. I'm not profiting from them, and have no wish to. I just want to play around, hopefully tell a good story.

* * *

A lone figure moved nimbly among the ancient ruins on the island. The contrail from the Reed Richards-designed transport had long since dissipated, leaving its passenger alone to explore this alien landscape. Magneto had once used this place as a base from which he could launch his plan for world domination. He abandoned it, however, after he thought he'd killed Kitty Pryde, who at the time was going by the codename "Sprite". The X-men had trained there for a time, and it was during one of these sessions that Belasco had been able to beguile a seven year old Illyana Rasputin into wandering onto a stepping disk. That horrible day would change all their lives, but the Russian child's most of all. They had gone after her, of course. Had fought – and seemingly escaped – with the girl, only to have her torn from their grasp. When Kitty had reached back into the portal, the person she pulled out was seven years older, having somehow survived the Demon Lord's apprenticeship.

Dark eyes peered across the Atlantic, gazing northeast in the direction of England. The others would be here soon – Cyclops had relayed as much in his last message. It would be good to see them again, good to see some action.

* * *

Kurt moved back into the cabin, his eyes resting on each and every face of his team members. At Kitty, piloting the craft with her face set in extreme focus. And at Colossus, who had replaced him in the co-pilot's seat. The Russian's jaw was set, but in his eyes, which constantly flickered over at the pretty brunette flying the Blackbird, showed a glimmer of hope. Nightcrawler headed towards the back of the plane, where Rachel and Amanda were seated.

Amanda had a distant look in her eyes, knowing better than any of them what awaited them in that hellish place. She fumbled with a pouch at her side, pulling out a bottle of antibiotics given her by Dr. Reyes. She took one out, mumbled a few words, and then swallowed it with the aid of a drink of bottled water. She shuddered a bit, then noticed his eyes on her. "No matter how advanced human technology gets, why is it that medicine always comes in the most unpalatable of packages. Can't even glamour it away."

"_Ja_," Kurt agreed. "Incentive for the patient to recover more quickly, I believe."

He turned to go when she put her hand on his forearm. "About last night… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

He took her hand in his. "If anything, I am the one who should apologize. But it is best that we focus on the task at hand. We can talk about things later." With that, he gave her hand a little squeeze and moved back to the Rachel, whose emerald eyes had been burning at him throughout the entire conversation.

She adopted a more cheerful countenance at his approach. "Making the rounds, fuzzy? Trying to inspire the troops – or make peace with your friends, tying up all the loose ends?"

"_Ach_, you make it sound so calculated." He sat in the seat next to her. "It is strange, isn't it? All the times we have risked our lives, all those battles and horrors we have seen, and yet this one mission fills us all with melodrama?"

"I think it's because we're being proactive," the redhead replied, thoughtfully. "Yeah, he attacked our home first, but now we're going to get him. And we're not being all half-cocked about it, either."

She continued, "It's also that we know how final this is. We can't come back with him still out there to ever threaten us again."

"I know what you mean. How many times have we recited the mantra, 'the X-men don't kill' and yet here we are. Not Wolverine. Not Rogue. Not Cable or my mother. Us. You, me, Amanda. Kitty – who used to be the most optimistic of us all. Peter, who should have been the gentlest. Even I had tried for a life of service to the Church. But look at us now, deliberately heading for a confrontation with the express intention of ending a life." He rubbed his eyes, "It's certainly enough to make one pause."

"Well, that's why you've got me around," she said with a forced laugh. "When I'm not trying to kill Queens of Hellfire, I've got that pesky habit of trying to wipe out the entire Universe in order to kill the Beyonder."

Kurt turned to look at her sharply, "You joke, but your heart isn't in it. You know you aren't the same girl who did those things."

"Oh, I don't know. Put Selene in front of me right now, maybe we'll see about that."

"Ha ha." His face went somber, "Rachel, I do have some concerns. You've been to Limbo, but you are the one person who hasn't fought Belasco. And while you can read our minds, it won't really prepare you for how that can twist you, inside and out."

"You… you don't want me on the team?" a stunned Rachel asked in a quiet voice. "You would… rather go with…"

"Now, please, let me finish." He had been taken aback by her reaction. "What I am trying to say – what I mean to say – is that I want you to be particularly careful. You remember how you couldn't touch the portal with your telekinesis. I need you to follow our lead. You have a tendency to let your emotions rule you, just like your mom in many ways, and that is exactly the sort of thing that Belasco will seek to exploit. Remember, this is the sort of creature that managed to corrupt versions of Storm, Kitty – and me."

Realization dawned on Marvel Girl, and her eyes grew wide. "This isn't about me at all, is it? It's all about you. I don't need to read your mind to tell, you are seriously freaked about this, aren't you?"

"Now that's a rather emasculating question, isn't it? If I say yes, I give the team cause to doubt me and my decisions." He stared out a window at the passing clouds. "And if I say no…"

"You'd be lying," she finished for him. "But you don't have to worry about the team – we know you, we've fought with you plenty. We trust you and know you'll do the right thing when it all hits the fan."

"I wish I were as confident," Kurt admitted, dejectedly.

Putting her arm around his shoulder, Rachel said brightly, "That's quite enough doom and gloom, mister. Tell ya what – how's about when we get back, I let you take me to the old Grandview for an Errol Flynn double feature. I'll even chip in for the popcorn."

"Oh, and ruin my image as the perfect gentleman? I think not!" He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek, "And Rachel – thanks." He got up and walked back up to the cockpit.

"Almost there," Kitty reported as he peeked in on her. "Do you want the stick?"

"_Nein_, you and Peter stay where you are. Our last member should be sending some sort of a signal."

Kitty looked confident, "It's Wolvie, right? Just 'cause he got chewed on a bit, that's not going to keep him away."

"Patience, _Kätchzen_," Nightcrawler said, "Scott would have said."

"Why the secrecy, then?" she challenged.

"As Amanda is wont to say, 'names have power.' If the agents against us hear who it is, then maybe they will be better prepared. If we have an ace up our sleeve, we need to play it at the most opportune time."

"Agreed, _tovarisch_," Colossus broke in. "And there is the island. I confess that I had hoped never to see it again, but if it leads somehow to the recovery of my sister…"

Kitty glance over, "I know, Pete. I feel the same way."

* * *

Down on the ground, the figure spotted the black dot on the horizon. In one fluid motion, an arm reached back to a quiver, an arrow nocked and loosed into the air. It arced high, then burst into an "X" of crimson plasma.

Danielle Moonstar put away her bow and waited for the Blackbird to land.

* * *

Kitty ran through the landing sequence with the deftness and ease that illustrated her long familiarity with the craft, despite her years. "Main thrusters off, VTOL engaged. Deploying landing gear. Thank you for flying Xavier Air. We want to welcome you to the Bermuda Triangle, where the current weather is sunny, and the temperature a steamy eighty-seven degrees. We know that you have a choice in Superhero Transportation, and we appreciate your business. For those of our passengers who are traveling on to Limbo, please see your nearest Gypsy Sorceress for your connecting teleport circle."

Peter laughed, a deep-throated chuckle. He'd been expecting to be told to make sure his tray table was in the full and upright position. Glancing down at one of the monitors, he spoke, "It appears that Wolverine will not be joining us. Unless he has lost a great deal of weight, and also had his elbows hinged differently."

"What?" Kurt said, looking down at the view provided by the external camera. "Interesting, very interesting."

With a gentle thud, the plane touched down. Kitty phased free of her restraints as Peter unbuckled in a more traditional manner, and they filed back towards the ramp, which Rachel had already started lowering.

Kurt was the first out, striding down the steps to the young Cheyenne woman. He bowed deeply, kissing her hand. "Danielle, I am delighted to see you are our mystery guest."

"Mirage?" Amanda asked, as she reached the bottom, "I thought you were –"

"Depowered?" asked Dani, "I no longer have my mutant ability to project people's fears or desires, no. But I'm not without talents, and I've been to Limbo, so I guess Cyclops thought I would make a good addition. Well, that, or he totally expects us to fail and didn't want to risk a powered individual."

She paused, waiting for the impending sign of shock from the others. "Joking!" she laughed. "At least a little, huh? Here let me help you with that stuff."

Amanda laughed, a silvery sound, and grasped Danielle's hand, "Whatever the reason, we're glad to have you aboard."

"Quite," Kurt agreed with a smile.

Dani started up the ramp to help unload, and nearly ran right into Kitty, who had her head turned while asking Peter to grab one of the food packs. Shadowcat momentarily lost her balance, then quickly pulled off a pirouette, spinning right through the former New Mutant leader, who responded with a shudder. "Y'know, Pryde, that still totally weirds me out."

Surprised by the tone, Kitty shot a look back at her, "I'm sorry?"

They looked at one another for a moment, staring each other down. Finally, Dani spoke softly. "Maybe you should be. Who knows? Maybe I should be. But then, I'm not the one who has to work with Emma Frost on a daily basis now, am I? At least, not since M Day."

"Wha-?" She was struck speechless at the young woman's vitriol. "Is this about you being fired? Forced from the Institute?" I didn't have anything to do with that, that was – "

"All Emma, I know. She sent me packing the day it happened. But you didn't go out of your way to challenge her on it, now did you?"

Kurt interceded, "Danielle, I don't see how rehashing those events will provide any benefit to the mission at hand. I know it does nothing to assuage your anger, but we did protest – all of us. But you were already gone."

"My students died, Kurt! Not just Laurie and Jay, but forty-two children killed on that bus! Max, killed by William Stryker's goons! I knew all those kids; I helped bring them to Xavier's. I promised their parents that we – that **I** – would take care of them. And I wasn't even allowed to be there when that moronic, rank amateur evacuation went down. And after that? Sentinels everywhere, one of the best security systems on the planet, and a sniper still manages to cut down Wallflower? An injured Jay Guthrie manages to slip in and out of the grounds at will, even though he's acting in a completely irrational manner? Quite frankly, I am shocked that Sam wants to have anything to do with you bunch of incompetents."

Her fury was plain on her face, and in the way every inch of her lithe form shook. "As I told Cyclops when he called me for this – I'm here for Illyana, pure and simple. It won't do anything to balance against what we've lost, but dammit, it's about time I did something to reverse this awful trend."

They sat in stunned silence, taken aback by the raw emotions emanating from the Cheyenne woman, who stood erect, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

It was Peter, his heart ever on his sleeve, who moved first. He walked down the ramp, deposited the packages he'd been unloading, and strode right up to her, his own eyes welling. Even though Danielle tried to raise her hands to intercede, his large arms surrounded her and pulled her into a hug. He whispered to her, "I, too, grieve for our losses, and wish it were in my power to change things. And I am grateful that you have come, your courage honors us."

Hearing his words, and the sincerity behind them, she relented, and hugged him back. "I'm sorry, Peter. It just sort of hit me all at once." She drew in a ragged breath, "I've been on the move a lot – I had gone back to SHIELD after… the events at the Institute, but without Fury, and with that whole Registration fiasco, well, I resigned. I ended up in Canada, studying a bit with Elizabeth Twoyoungman, trying to rekindle some of my Valkyrie abilities. Went back to Colorado for a time, got my head together – that's where Scott tracked me down. I'm glad he did."

She turned to apologize to Kitty, who still had a hurt expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Kit. Guess you got the brunt of that. Heh, I would've figured I'd gotten over that by now huh?"

Realization dawned on the Deerfield native, and she laughed, "Once an X-baby, always an X-baby, huh?"

Dani laughed back, "I'm still older than you, you know!"

The two embraced, and it was all right again.

Kurt smiled, "Now that we've gotten past that – we can start with some of the preliminaries. Peter, can you hand me those packs?"

The Russian hefted several black cases, emblazoned simply with a silver X.

Nightcrawler popped the latches, and pulled out several smaller wrapped packages. He tossed one to each of them, keeping the last for himself. "New uniforms. Specially made for our trip. Gifts of Mr. Fantastic's scientific genius, Dr. Strange's mystical power and Forge's talent for both. They should resist most claws and bites, and even some of the weaker spells."

"That's not all, is it Kurt?" Rachel asked, her green eyes intent. "There was the other thing…"

"_Ja_, this box." The blue furred mutant answered, holding up a squarish black container, with yellow highlights. "Emma told me I should tell you after we got there, but I disagree." He swallowed, "Inside this box is a powerful enchantment, a sort of mystical bomb. If things go wrong, I was given this as a last resort. It will collapse the ethereal tethers that connect Limbo to the rest of the multiverse. In effect, Earth will be safe from Belasco forever."

"And we stay trapped as well." Kitty wasn't asking.

Kurt nodded.

Sobered by the idea, but undeterred, they took their respective packages. Kitty ripped into hers, pulling out a loose fitting shirt and pants clearly designed for free flowing movement. The color was dark blue – no, black. Brown? It seemed to shift in the light. There was also a vest, vaguely X-shaped, designed to be worn over the shirt. It was thicker, but still very flexible, with large arm openings at the shoulder to allow maximum range of motion while being strong enough to guard the more vulnerable torso. Inside the vest were several pockets the right shape to hole multiple shuriken – Japanese throwing stars- and a small collection of these were included in the package. She noted that they were cold iron, anathema to demons and their ilk. Arm gauntlets and soft soled split-toed tabi shows were included, as well as a balaclava-like cowl that could be pulled over her face to complete the ninja-esque ensemble.

Further examination of the fabric revealed that it had a remarkable camouflage effect woven into the unstable molecule blend, and that it rapidly adapted to the prevailing background light and color.

She quipped, "Why is it that no one seems to trust me to make my own costumes anymore?"

Nightcrawler and Peter shot glances at one another, recalling a series of gaudy and other rather awful outfits, especially her tour de force, a multicolored affair complete with roller skates. As they stood there, mouths agape, trying to find the right words, Rachel stepped in with a huge grin on her face, "Kate, you've been wearing that glorified training uniform for so long that I was worried your fashion sense had atrophied away."

"Ray – "

"Then again, I got a really good look at your wardrobe when we were roomies…"

"Ray!"

"It's OK, Kit, I still love ya and Petey doesn't seem to mind that his girlfriend prefers sweatpants to Prada," Rachel laughed.

"Peter, are you going to let her get away with that?" Kitty pleased, her voice adopting a tone that reminded them all of a much younger version on her.

"_Nyet, _Katya," the large man said, holding up his hands. "One thing you made me promise was to not interfere between you and your friends. Besides, I think you look quite fetching in any outfit."

"Sure, throw my own words in my face!" Her tone was accusatory, but she'd already begun to smile. "Traitor," she added, but then could no longer suppress the giggle that had been bubbling up inside. "Well, at least my first Shadowcat uni wasn't that bad, was it?"

"No, that one wasn't bad at all," Rachel replied, "But you have been backsliding ever since."

"Says the girl who ran around in Danskins and legwarmers…"

"We've all had a fashion faux pas – or three - haven't we?" The redhead had pulled out her own outfit. A red X was prominent on the shirt, but it had been stylized so that the upper arms of the letter flared out to look like wings, an effect brought home by the raptor head rising up between her breasts. The bottom of the shirt was a metallic gold, as were the three-quarters sleeves. Tight red pants, short red gloves, and black boots completed the costume. "Doesn't sing, but then, I'm not going to be trying to impress Belasco."

Colossus was looking at his new clothes with a bemused expression. Red "X" on a tight black short sleeve shirt, black pants (not shorts, somewhat a surprise), red armlets, a gold belt and black boots. He shrugged, and then pulled off his chamois shirt to try it on. Nightcrawler's, on the other hand, harkened back to an outfit he'd worn while leading Excalibur, but with a very loose red "X" replacing the tabard. He had three scabbards strapped to his back, holding a sword for each hand and his prehensile tail.

Moonstar looked inside her package with confusion. Inside was a mail shirt. "Isn't this-?"

"It was the chainmail made for Sam by Eitri the dwarf, _ja_," Kurt explained. "Cannonball thought it might help."

"But Loki said it would just be simple steel once we left Asgard."

"Thaumaturgical resonance." Amanda piped in, "The armor 'remembers' what its enchantment. Dr, Strange and I were able to coax it back out."

Dani nodded, and pulled the chain mail over her SHIELD jumpsuit. She buckled her traditional belt over it. "It feels like it weighs nothing at all. And it feels… right, somehow. Like a piece of my soul just clicked into place." She hoisted her quiver and slung her bow. "Are we good to go?"

Kitty walked over to Kurt, who was half-dressed. She glanced quickly over his acrobat's body, covered in soft blue fur, and could see a bit of why Rachel hadn't quite gotten over him. Only a bit, because it was the Fuzzy Elf, and was practically her brother. This thought made her flash back to another Nightcrawler – the one corrupted by Belasco, the one who had – she stifled the memory with a shudder. "I do have one question," she asked, her brow furrowed. She finished hooking the last of the fasteners on her vest, and then gestured at the assembled crew. "This. All of this – well, we found out about things less than forty-eight hours ago, but all of this, these costumes, the magic bomb, that would have taken weeks – months even. How -?"

"The truth, _Kätchzen_? From my understanding, it began under the Professor. Even as he had made contact with Reed Richards to create our unstable molecule uniforms, he had been networking with others in the 'hero' community. When he took over as headmaster, Scott continued this, as well as coming up with preliminary battle plans for some of our more likely – and severe – threats. Too many times we'd have to be a reactive force, thinking on our feet when we were attacked. It was Professor Xavier – and later Scott – who thought to at least have some things ready in preparation, to be ready the next time we were attacked by Magneto, Apocalypse, Sinister, the Brood, Sentinels… and apparently Belasco."

"I hope he did a better job planning for Belasco, considering that we've gotten our asses handed to us by just about everyone on that list."

"That was uncharitable of you, Kitty."

The young woman simply shrugged, "It was nicer than my original thought – that I was surprised to hear Scott had found time, and had convinced Emma to let go of her deathgrip on his – "

"_Ach!_ That's a bit crude, isn't it?"

"I was going to say life," she smirked, "Hey, if those two want to rut around at every opportunity like a late night Discovery channel documentary, it isn't any of my business." She let out a sigh, and her eyes sought out Rachel. The redhead had changed into her new outfit and had telekinetically lifted a piece of highly reflective debris to see if the pants made her butt look big. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I don't mean to slander our fearless leader. I'm just a little concerned about Ray."

"Why, is there something I should know about?"

Kitty was fairly sure that the concern she heard in his voice was more than the empathetic German's standard, but she was equally sure that he still didn't see what the attention he was lavishing on Amanda, however understandable given their history, was doing to Rachel. "I know she came here because of her friendship with me. I also know that she hasn't gotten over what happened with the Shi'ar, with her family being slaughtered, then later with Korvus dying on her. Keep an eye out for her, OK?"

"_Ja_, I will." Kurt agreed. He turned towards the group, and called in a loud voice, "If everyone is ready, let us be on our way."

Under his breath, he spoke a prayer that they all return safely. Then he turned to his oldest friend, "Amanda, take us to Limbo."

She nodded, grimly. "Follow me." She led them into one of the marble buildings that dotted the island, one very familiar to Kurt, Kitty and Peter – the very one where they first were trapped into that hellish domain.

They wound their way past broken columns and other rubble. There was dried up kelp everywhere, along with the skeletal remains from sea creatures caught unprepared for the islands rapid ascent from the bottom of the ocean. This, along with the completely alien bas relief and horrifying grotesques still dotting the narrow streets, did nothing to lessen the overpowering sense of foreboding.

"I thought that Ororo – well, the old Ororo – severed the link between this place and Limbo," Kitty said quietly, her eyes straining against the darkness. Rachel managed to conjure a light source with a sort of telekinetic fire (by psionically exciting certain molecules in the air), but it did little to dispel the oppressing darkness. "Even still, this totally creeps me out. Can't we do this outside?"

Peter agreed, "I too find it disquieting. Is this truly necessary, Amanda?" He moved over and gave Kitty's hand a little squeeze.

"I'm sorry guys," the witch replied, her tone determinedly light, as she pulled the hood of her crimson cloak over her head. "Storm did an admirable job, but the very stones of this room, like Danielle's armor, remember the mystical nature of the portal. Dr. Strange gave me a charm that should coax out that memory, which, along with my own Winding Way magicks, should be enough to open the gate. The advantage is that this portal was linked directly to his throne room – with luck, we would have the element of surprise and be able to take him out immediately, and I would be able to regain control and order his minions to stand down. The other advantage is that Belasco knows the feel of my magicks, and he'll be sure to have set up wards and alarms ready to detect either my teleportation circles or Fuzzy's cute little bamfs." She took Nightcrawler's hand and pulled him across the room. "With luck, using his own spell against him will bypass all of that and get lost in the 'white noise' of background magic." She put her arms on Kurt's shoulders, and whispered something in an unrecognizable tongue, causing the blue furred mutant to glow a harsh red. She walked back over to the group and repeated the process with Rachel, placing her about two meters away from Nightcrawler. Some more words, and she too was bathed in the ruby light. Then Danielle, six feet from Rachel, forming an obtuse triangle between them. Then she dragged Peter, and finally Kitty, completing the circle of magically illuminated X-men.

She walked in a circle, chanting softly, her measured footsteps leaving a trail of silver fire that surrounded them all. She then moved to the middle of the circle and assumed a lotus position, levitating in place. Her body began to rotate in midair, her chant continuing, becoming harsher, guttural. From each hand, she released a powder that slowly descended to the floor, sparkling in the eldritch light. The stones seemed to lurch, though Kitty was sure that they didn't actually move. But they did pulse with energy, synchronizing with the light from the circle surrounding them.

Amanda barked out a word, and a shining tendril snaked out from Nightcrawler's aura, traveling over to Dani. When it reached her, it became a single beam of silver fire, matching the circle, while the original stream wound its way over to Kitty. Again, a direct line was formed, and as it snaked over to Rachel, and then to Peter, Kurt realized that it was the mystical pentacle being formed. It finally reached him, and the brightness increased exponentially. The last thing he saw, before forcing his eyes shut against the blinding light, was Amanda trying to give him a reassuring smile as her own words reached their crescendo.

All went went.white, and his stomach lurched. He clenched his eyes tight, but even still his retina's seemed to burn in their sockets.

* * *

The queasiness let up just a little, and he dared take a peek. Things were still so intensely bright that he could not be sure, but he thought he could make out a face – a laughing, smiling face.

Belasco.

So much for the element of surprise.

Amanda seemed to shout something, and his innards heaved and rolled as everything returned to the brilliance of her teleportation effect.

The wild ride ended, he landed in a heap. His vision was blurred; he could barely make out vague shapes. It was open, wherever he was, and it felt like withered grass beneath him. He rolled onto his hands and knees, and vomited up a small amount of stomach acid.

"Hello?" he asked, weakly. The blur had begun to spin, and his brain went fuzzy. "Amanda?"

"Anyone?"

Darkness clouded the edges of his sight – he fought to maintain consciousness, struggling to reach his communicator. It fell out of nerveless fingers, and all went black.


	5. Lost in Limbo

The mutant known to the world as Colossus was falling. Even though he was still blinded by Amanda's spell of teleportation, there was no mistaking the sensation of plummeting down through the air. He triggered his power, that genetic switch that converted every molecule in his body to an analog to osmium steel.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots that moved in furious circles before his eyes. The ground below was a light yellowish tan smear for what must have been miles – a desert, he guessed. His sister had mentioned something about escaping to a desert, in one of those rare moments where she would speak of her time here.

He called out, in vain he knew. No one would be able to hear him over the sound of the rushing wind of his descent. He wound his head every which way, and could not see any other blurs around him. He hoped that no one else was in his predicament.

The ground was approaching rapidly, and in spite of his situation, he found himself humming a song Kitty used to play from time to time – "Nine point eight straight down…" He was concerned a little about landing in sand. It wouldn't hurt him at all, but he was fairly certain that the shifting surface would make it difficult to climb out of the crater he was about to make.

Things were becoming more distinct, his vision finally returning. He was now able to verify that none of his comrades were around him. He felt a great relief at that; of the others, only Rachel would be able to survive. He espied the dark browns and blacks of rocky outcroppings, and took it as a positive sign that the footing might not be as bad as he'd thought.

With less than half a mile to go, he started to twist his body to a diving position, intending to hurry the process along. A thunderous noise, audible even over the noise of the air whooshing past him, caught his attention, as the rocks seemed to be moving across the sand, congregating below him. His eyes widened as the whole area seemed to explode as needlelike protrusions burst forth to meet his descent.

At his current speed, he knew that even his armored form would be easily pierced by the spikes. With seconds remaining, he spoke words he knew would never be heard, "Katya – my dearest, Illyana – little snowflake – I am sorry…"

* * *

"Getsss to play with the misssstresss!"

"No, mine!"

"Wantsssss her!"

"MINE!"

"You alwaysss getsss your way, it'ssss my turn!"

"Have darkskin. Witch mine."

Dani cracked open an eye, trying to take stock of the situation. Two voices, but more than two demons by the sound of the various growls and whistles and snorts. She listened closely, trying to picture where everyone and everything was. The creatures had only mentioned Amanda and her – if it had said redskin, she might have dispatched it immediately.

She had fallen face down upon her rematerialization, and all her weapons remained in the quiver strapped to her back. She wished Amanda had given them a little more time to prepare before transporting them to Belasco's throne room, but it looked like she might have to save them both in order to complain to her about it.

"Darkssssskin issss awake!" the reptilian voice alerted its companions.

_Shit._

She rolled left, her arm reaching into her quiver. Two smaller imps had just missed her, leaping for where she'd been moments before. She sprang to her feet, a foot long shaft topped by a spear blade in her right hand.

A large cyclopean minotaur with a crenellated orange hide scoffed, "Small stick, darkskin. What you do with it?"

The assorted multihued cohort erupted in sounds that Danielle Moonstar could only assume was laughter. It didn't bother her, and she simply thumbed a switch on the shaft even as she leapt into the air, hurdling the imps that reached desperately for her with their claws. She tucked, then thrust the now ten foot long spear right into the singular eye of the beast, piercing its brain. Before it fell, she'd swung the spear in a great arc, taking out two more demons and sending the rest scattering in fear.

"Amanda!" she called to the fallen figure. "Are you awake?" She twirled the spear like a bo, slicing through air and flesh with equal ease. She retracted the spear and replaced in her quiver, and unlimbered her bow to get the last few critters who'd moved back. In a matter of seconds, three arrows were in the arrow, and three more opponents dropped to the ground.

"C'n you keep it down," asked a weak voice from the heap behind her, "'m tryin' t' sleep here."

"You can nap later. Right now I need those mad mystical skills of yours to find our friends." She punctuated that by loosing another arrow in a long arc. Hundreds of yards away, the reptilian demon who had dismissed her stood transfixed by the sight, right up to the point where it buried itself in its scaly throat with a sickening thud. The remaining host broke and ran at such a display of accuracy.

Groaning, the Gypsy woman crawled to her hands and knees. Waves of nausea overtook her, and she gagged.

Dani was unsympathetic, "You can be sick later too."

"You've grown up to be a very cruel woman, Danielle Moonstar. Did you know that?" Amanda said after a fit of coughing.

"It's a cruel world," came her reply, flat and emotionless. "Don't you learn that on that Winding Way of yours? In any event, get up. We need to find the others."

"If they're still alive."

"No," Dani said, curtly. "Whether they are alive or not. If they are, we continue with the plan. If not," _I hope – I pray not… _"If not, we have to get the bomb. If Belasco was able to take out four of us before we've even begun, we need to think long and hard about whether we can get this done by ourselves. Our lives are meaningless balanced against the invasion of the Elder Gods."

Amanda looked at Dani critically, "I know we never talked much, but I never figured you for the defeatist type."

The young Cheyenne woman reacted as if she'd been slapped, "What did you say?"

Seemingly oblivious to the idea she may have said something insulting, the sorceress continued, "I guess I'm not used to the X-men being so willing to skip straight to the doomsday scenario. They always seemed to be working to find that last, best option."

Dani's voice dropped low, "Are you calling me a coward?"

"I didn't say-"

"If you don't like my plan, go home. If you're worried about your own ass, pop off into one of your little white circles and teleport it out. I need you – you have powers I don't and you know this place better than I do – but if you don't have faith in my ability to execute this mission to the best of my ability… I don't need that. Go home."

With that, the warrior limbered her bow and withdrew her spear, and marched off.

Amanda pursed her lips, then hefted her pack and followed.

* * *

The dun-colored wight writhed within the incandescent grasp of a telekinetic claw. At the end of the psychic stream, her eyes afire, stood Rachel Grey, the Phoenix symbol blazing over her left eye. She said it for a third time, "Where are they?"

It shrieked defiance, and she hurled it away towards the mountains in the distance. She set about destroying the horde that had gathered around her, pausing from time to time to interrogate any demons that seemed capable of vocalization. She had tried to contact her teammates telepathically, but something in Limbo was actively negating her telepathy. She was headblind, and it frightened her.

She snatched up an efreet who'd been skirting the battlefield, all the while blasting a dozen other misshapen creatures to bits. "Where are my friends? Where is Belasco? I swear I will take this dimension apart molecule by molecule, starting with you!"

It gibbered at her, and a moment later found itself getting her impromptu flight lesson. She noted that they all seemed to have mastered the landing by the sounds of distant thuds.

She stood among the carnage, catching her breath. She'd appeared in a stone edifice, a black temple, complete with a blood stained altar. And a hornet's nest of demons. It was an hour later, and she was totally spent. The building had been reduced to rubble, most of that used as weaponry against Limbo's denizens, and outside was a dead, twisted forest. In the distance loomed craggy peaks, where she had tossed the more uncooperative of the beasts.

Behind her, a German accented voice spoke, "Rachel! It is good to see you – I had thought you lost!"

"KURT!" she yelled and ran to him, catching him in a huge embrace. "I was so worried for you – for everyone!"

"There, there, _mein schönes liebes,_" he returned the hug. "I am here now."

"Have you seen any of the others? And, oh Kurt! Your new costume is in tatters!"

"_Nein_, I have not seen them. But together, you and I, we will find them, _ja?_" He looked down at the state of his clothes. His shirt and tabard were gone completely, leaving him bare-chested. His tight pants were torn in several places. "As for this? I suppose they do not make uniforms like they used to…"

"I thought that Dr.-"

"But am I not more beautiful this way?"

In spite of their peril, she smiled. "You're always beautiful, Fuzzy. But you know that."

"But of course!" He'd slipped into his Erroll Flynn idiom. "But what is the dashing hero without the damsel fair?" With that, he pulled Rachel close to him and kissed her.

She wanted to object. "Kurt, we really should be-" He nipped at her lower lip gently. "But the others-" He nuzzled her neck. "What happened to y-" He pulled her tight against him, one hand in her hair, one hand snaking lower, his lips hungrily seeking hers. Her protests failed. "Mmmmmmm…" she purred.

Behind her, a blue furred tail held a silver poniard. It raised behind her, pointing towards the base of her skull.

And then, he struck.

* * *

Kitty Pryde instinctively flowed into a breakfall upon landing, and sprang to her feet, the hilts of her new photonic katanas appearing in her hands.

"Welcome, Katherine. I have awaiting your arrival most eagerly."

An animal cry ripped from her throat, and she moved in a blur. A spinning crescent kick at the cloaked figure was followed by a furious double slice of her energy blades to the neck and abdomen. Her dancer's body moved gracefully back into a ready stance.

The sound of applause and screeching laughter and hooting behind her didn't surprise her, and she turned to face Belasco and his minions. She berated herself silently for reacting so impulsively, for falling for a simple illusion and for giving away her secret weapons.

The demonic sorcerer was seated on a golden, gem-encrusted throne. The fact that the formerly one armed man was clapping startled her a bit, and she tried to determine how much more dangerous that might make him.

Seeming to sense her thoughts, he flexed his right hand, his fingers tracing a design in the air. "Do you like it? My powers have never been greater. Restoring my arm was the beginning, and also the means to the future."

"How nice for you," she said, her voice emotionless.

"Impertinent child, it will be a delight breaking you to my will again."

She tensed, in spite of the knowledge that he was trying to manipulate her to anger. Her mind flashed to the scene in _Return of the Jedi_, where Palpatine tried to corrupt Luke Skywalker, and she deliberately slowed her breathing. "I'm not the child you trapped so easily. I'm older, wiser, and ready for you."

He laughed, "Wonderful! I look forward to the challenge. But first, I suppose, I should allow you to opportunity to join me willingly. I have no great expectations that you will see reason and submit to the inevitable, but, since you will soon be my servant, I must give you the chance to exhibit the proper attitude."

"Get bent, old Red and Horny. I'm going to wipe that smile off your face."

"By all means, Katherine, you are welcome to try." Belasco's grin widened a bit, and it almost – but not quite – reached his eyes. "But first, you will of course entertain me by dancing with some of your future colleagues." He made a motion with that regenerated right arm, waving a small group of imps forward.

"Bring 'em on." She raised her mask over her face, and prepared for the onslaught.

They charged, mindlessly. She moved in a whirl, her swords glowing in the darkness of the room. She didn't so much as fight the creatures as carve them into pieces; she was a ballet dancer gracefully slicing her way through a thicket with an exquisitely sharpened machete. Heads and limbs seemed to fly off in graceful arcs, bouncing as they hit the basalt flagstones.

"Are you suitably – what's the phrase? – warmed up? I would not wish for you to not be appropriately prepared for your indoctrination."

"Why don't you draw that sword of yours and try me? Or do I have to indoctrinate every demon you've got into tiny little pieces?"

The red-skinned mage looked amused at her challenge. "Perhaps you would humor me with one more minion?"

Kitty froze – what was his game? She forced her voice to a calm, even tone, "And then you'll fight me? No – don't bother with an empty promise. I'll just dispatch whatever demon you throw up at me until you're finally forced to deal with me."

"Oh, no. He's not a demon. He's one of my… apprentices. Just as you soon will be."

She snuck a glance. The crowd of goblins dispersed, leaving an unobstructed view of a cloaked figure, clad in deepest obsidian. Under a jet black cowl and cloak, an ebony tunic covered a well-toned body. Soft half boots and gloves of the same onyx hue and a dark charcoal hose completed the monochromatic ensemble. Whoever he was, he was tall – six foot, perhaps? And there was something hauntingly familiar about him.

She raised her katanas, and the man drew a sword that seemed to be made of dark lightning, it's blade crackling with power.

"Oh, please do reintroduce yourselves." Belasco was almost bursting with laughter, "It does not do to be so impersonal."

The figure reached up with his free left hand, and pulled down the hood of his cloak, exposing a shock of blond hair. There was a goatee of the same color, but underneath, that impish grin.

"Oh my god." One of her swords fell to the ground with a clatter, and the hand that had held it reached up and pulled down her mask. "Doug…"

"Hey Pryde, how've you been?"

* * *

"Get yer ass out of the way, Summers."

"Stand down, Logan."

"No flamin' way. I can't believe ya let Kit and the Russkie head go down to that hellhole without me. Ya know neither of 'em have their head in the game. Now let me by, or so help me, I will go through you."

"Listen, mister – "

"No, you listen! I don't give a damn what you've got to say. I'm gonna find the nearest redeye t' Limbo, I'm gonna take out Hornhead and whatever beasties get in my way. An' then I'm gonna come back here an' give ya a piece of my mind. Right now, I ain't got the time."

Amara Aquilla stood in the hall, fuming at the overabundance of testosterone in evidence. Two grown men acting like spoiled children who weren't getting their way. And in front of the students, as well.

The doorbell rang, a thunderous chiming sound that reverberated through the atrium. She left the bickering X-men to answer it. She mused as she walked, how she could see both sides of the argument. As the only daughter of the First Senator of Nova Roma, she understood well the pressures and responsibilities borne by Scott Summers. He was trying to determine the best way to deploy their forces for the coming threat, and the Wolverine was too valuable a resource to risk on a potential suicide mission.

But she descended from a long line of warriors, and her very bones rebelled against the idea of allowing comrades to face such peril alone.

The doorbell rang again, impatiently. She continued down the hall, reflecting on those five souls on the mission to defeat Belasco. She herself had volunteered, in vain, she had known, as she was one of the most powerful mutants alive on Earth. In Limbo, separated from Mother Gaia, she was limited. She thought of Colossus, a kind, noble soul. She had admired him for his sacrifice, but did not know much of him. She had worked with Kitty a few times, and while they had their differences when they were younger, she had a great deal of respect for her as both a fellow member of the faculty and as an X-man. Kurt was always so charming and the perfect gentleman in spite of his appearance. It was Rachel that she knew best, and even then not well at all. They both wielded fantastic power, both been targeted by the virtually immortal Selene. Thinking of the Black Queen caused deep-seated anger to well within her, and she stifled the feeling before it triggered a microquake. The incessant chiming of the doorbell broke her reverie, and she reached for the door.

"Sod off, Braddock!" She opened the door to reveal a scruffy man in an unkempt suit pointing his finger at a much larger man – one she recognized from an adventure years before. "I already thanked you for flying me here, what more do you want?"

"I want you to make 'Wisdom' more than just an appellation. You have no way to get to Otherplace, you have no experience with the denizens, and Kitty entrusted you to my care. The only reason I allowed you to come with me to this meeting is that I didn't trust you to your own devices back in London. Lord knows what mischief you and your MI-13 cronies might get into."

"Excuse me-" Amara tried to intervene.

"Don't talk about my mates like that, you lycra-wearing lummox. I'm here to do the job the Crown pays me to do. This Belasco represents a threat, I go in and take him down. End of story."

"Are you here for-" She tried again.

"I'm sorry, Pete, but this is in the hands of the X-men. They have the knowledge and experience-"

"Bugger the X-men, I-"

Her patience gone, Magma transformed herself to her lava form. Glowing like a star, all yellows and oranges and whites and reds, she yelled, "Will you two be quiet?"

The pair each took a step back in astonishment, hands flying involuntarily to shield their eyes from her radiance. It was Captain Britain who recovered first, "Why hello there, Ms. Aquilla. You'll forgive us, I hope? My rumpled friend here isn't used to the intricacies of hero etiquette."

"Bugger you too, Braddock…"

"It's good to see you too, Mr. Braddock." She resumed her human form and gave him a quick hug.. "They haven't started yet, but I can have someone take you to the War Room… excuse me, Haley?" She called out to a teenager who was walking past listening to her iPod.

Startled, the girl turned, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Could you please take Mr. Braddock and Mr. Wisdom to the subbasement for the conference?"

The young mutant, one of the few students remaining in the institute who'd retained her powers, nervously pushed back the hair behind her ears. She sized up the giant figure of Captain Britain and the smaller, dangerous-looking Pete Wisdom, and said, very quietly, "O.K."

"Thank you, miss," Brian said, graciously. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Haley. I take it you are still powered?"

She smiled, "Yep! I can manipulate weather patterns, especially making little ice pellets, kinda like a combination of Storm and Iceman! My codename is Hailstorm and-"

Wisdom winced, "Listen, little girl, we just need to get to the bloody war room, we don't need your life story. And take it from me – wise up, get out of this place before it warps you like-."

"That's enough, Pete." The larger man glared at his Excalibur counterpart, "I'm sorry, lass, but Mr. Wisdom just got knocked out by a girl half his age, and that always makes him cranky."

"It's a school, innit? I'm educating the poor child."

The teenager had gone quiet, stung by the British man's words. They walked a bit, and soon another heated discussion reached their ears.

"You're barely healed from the first attack, and I need you on point if we do get invaded, that's why."

They came around the corner to see Wolverine and Cyclops standing face to face, the Canadian glaring up at his taller teammate and snarling, "I don't care.. I should be there, not sitting on my ass waiting around here."

The man turned on his heels, slamming his cowboy hat on his head. "Braddock. Wisdom. You here for the big pow-wow? Follow the boy scout. Me, I got better things t'do."

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Brian began.

"Speak for yourself." Wisdom interjected, "If Logan here knows the way to Limbo, I'm following him."

"I don't need no sidekick." Wolverine growled.

"Why, does the fact that I'm not an adolescent girl disqualify me?" Pete's whisky-soaked voice dripped sarcasm.

"Screw you, ya limey spy. Find yer own way to Limbo."

* * *

Kurt wandered around. His stomach had finally settled; the extra 'port had made him feel like someone was trying to pull his digestive tract out through his navel. He'd gathered his belongings, his swords, his pack, the box. He was unable to raise anyone on the commlink, so he wasn't sure if they were out of range or if the magickal radiation was interfering – he refused to think of the other option.

He could see a castle in the far distance – as likely target as any. He'd tried to teleport closer, to no avail. The edifice remained on the horizon, no matter how hard he pushed himself. Only by walking did he seem to make any progress. He assumed that it was similar to the way the Danger Room could be made to be much larger than it was, by tricking the senses. But given the power of his opponent, it could even be that Belasco was moving the entire castle, keeping him away until the demon lord was ready to face him.

He sent a thought out for Rachel again, just in case, and was rewarded with nothing but the gloom of his own thoughts for his efforts.

On a whim, he teleported away from his destination, just a few hundred yards. There was no change in the view, but he shrugged and resumed walking.


	6. Dark Trials

Peter continued to plummet at terminal velocity. He knew he should have hit by now, and began to wonder if Belasco had either slowed time or somehow increased the distance between himself and the needlelike spires looming below. It was exactly the sadistic act he had come to expect from the demon lord, prolonging the anguish and torment he felt for failing his sister, his love, his teammates. In many ways, given how high the stakes were, he felt he might have failed the whole world. That thought made him briefly consider reverting to his human form in despair, that perhaps the sorcerer would then allow him to plunge to his death. He was honest enough to admit that the idea had merit – in his changeform of organic steel, he might even survive being skewered for a while. He could conceivably end up impaled on one of those spikes, unable to move, forced to wait for his body to be depleted of energy. How long that might take, he did not know, but it could be hours, days – even weeks. In human form, death was sure to be instantaneous.

_**Piotr Nikolievitch, don't you dare!**_

The voice echoed all around him.

"Wh- Who?" he stammered into the whipping wind. "Illyana?"

Of course, silly! Did you think I would let my big brother just fall to his death like that? I mean, it was one thing when you sacrificed yourself to end a plague – although I was rather mad at you over that and totally owe you an earful about it – and you know how I can talk when I get going –

In spite of his peril, he broke out into laughter.

_**PETER! Are you laughing at me?**_ The disembodied voice said in an accusing tone.

"Forgive me, little snowflake, but I have missed you so! And the way you can talk."

I've missed you too. But I can't hold the temporal flux much longer. I need you to focus – remember what Dr. McCoy said to you during your last exam…

Puzzled, he called out, "If time is short, why can you not just tell me?" He did notice that the ground – and those razor sharp spikes – were slowly beginning to accelerate towards him once again.

Sorry, big brother. There are rules even mighty sorceresses like me are bound by. I can clue you in, but I can't tell you. That would break the spell and alert my old Master.

He nodded, remembering a Christmas past, when he'd encountered a ghostly apparition that had told him to "remember". There were similarities here. He strained, trying to remember past conversations with the Beast. He tried to think, as he felt whatever magic used by the voice that he chose to attribute to his sister began to ebb.

He knew he had time, but the dire situation did make it hard to concentrate, even with the advantages of his metal form, where the electrical nerve impulses could travel free instead of the biochemical process of his human form. It was the reason he was faster in his armored form than in flesh.

That was it – his one chance. He could act quicker, his reflexes were fractionally better. He was still in terrible danger, but there was a glimmer of hope that somehow he could twist his body. Maybe, just maybe.

It may have been a trick of the eye, but it appeared that one spire in particular had more space around it than the others, as if the companion spikes surrounding it were drifting away. He chose to attribute this to his sister's intervention, and silently thanked her as he mustered all his concentration and gymnastic skill to twist his body towards this one fleeting chance. A meter before impact he shifted his weight slightly to the right, and reflexively stabbed out with his left arm to grab hold of the needle's point. Even as that broke off in his hand, he had punched into the stone a short distance below. It began to shatter, but by then he had been able to kick both feet into the rocky surface. He re-grabbed the sides, using his phenomenal strength to punch handholds.

Two long, six-inch deep grooves scarred the surface of the spire, bleeding off his momentum. He risked a glance down, at a lower level of spikes scattered beneath him. He felt if he hugged the side of this one, he would be safe, but it was going to be a tight squeeze. His handholds, however, failed him, as the stone suddenly splintered and gave way, causing him to arc backwards. Unable to free his feet, he found himself horizontal, with the points below coming directly for his torso. He thrashed his head around, looking for anything he could use to gain purchase. He lunged his seven-foot plus frame, a massive backwards double-fist smash into the nearest spire behind him. The stone shattered, but he was able to maintain his stretch across the chasm. The friction caused his armor to glow red hot, although nothing he was worried about – that was reserved for the sharp rocky spear he was speeding towards.

A soft "tink" told him he'd stopped just in time, the top of the spike just touching his back.

He pushed himself back up, and began to climb downwards. _I am coming for you, Sorcerer. Let my strength be the sword that wreaks my sister's vengeance upon you._

* * *

"Dani!" Amanda called out, "Dani, wait up!"

The Romany woman was surprised at how fast the young Cheyenne was moving across the broken terrain, nearly a half mile ahead. She could not even be certain that the former New Mutant was ignoring her repeated calls; she may easily have been out of earshot at this point. Still, the witch knew she had offended her, and chose to believe that the lack of response was deliberate.

She had to catch up – it would not do to be separated in this place, when more monstrosities could come at any time. She felt unease at the thought of what she had to do to catch up, but felt she couldn't risk falling further behind. She closed her eyes, and initiated a teleport, vanishing in a circle of light.

Danielle, for her part, was still stinging from Amanda's rebuke - that she was unable to think of this as anything but a kamikaze mission. Perhaps, at the peak of her quantum powers, she might have the confidence to challenge the Demon Lord here on his own turf. But as she was now? With none of her mutant gifts, and only a sack full of Forge's gizmos and doodads and her own cunning to rely on, she did not think it pessimistic or defeatist to make plans for the worst case scenario.

She'd heard Amanda call, and considered waiting for her. At the moment, she wasn't sure she could control her tongue, and the land got less rough a little bit ahead, and it would be better to blow off a little more steam and reach that before facing her companion. And if Amanda wanted to catch up quicker, she could always teleport.

As if in response to her thoughts, a glowing white disc formed a few feet away. Instead of appearing normally, the Gypsy seemed to fall from the circle, landing heavily on the rocks. Scratch marks lined her arms, and a cut above her eye was bleeding profusely. Dani sprang to her side.

"What happened?" she asked, pulling out a small medkit.

The blonde was out of breath. "I was diverted to the throne room – Belasco, blast him, must have been waiting for me to try to teleport. I got jumped again by some nasties, barely pulled out another 'port." She winced as Dani wiped her cut with an antiseptic swab, then continued, "Listen, I'm sorry for what I said back there. I think we all underestimated him, and you're probably right about finding the bomb. I'm not sure how much use I will be if he can twist my best spell like that, but I want to come with you."

Continuing to administer first aid, Moonstar nodded. "OK. We can still look for the happy ending option – if there is one to be had. But first, we need to find Kurt and our failsafe."

Amanda agreed, "Finding Kurt should definitely be our top priority."

The two women made their way at a slower pace, keeping watch for attacks. A desiccated forest, withered and grey, rose before them, and a wave of dread overtook them.

"Hardly an inviting sight. Shall we go around?" asked the sorceress.

Dani's spirit rebelled at the perversion of nature. What should have been full of life, with vibrant colors, intoxicating scents, and sounds all around her was naught but a silent monochromatic haze, and only the stench of death assaulted her nostrils. "Have you been able to determine where Nightcrawler is?"

"I've been able to do some minor scrying, yes."

"And?"

Amanda looked sadly at the gloomy woods.

"Then the forest it is."

As they looked, flashes of light appeared amongst the fungus-eaten trees. They looked at one another and took off at a run.

It was Rachel's power effect.

* * *

Even as he thrust the knife, Kurt Wagner felt a momentary pang of regret that such a delectable morsel had to be dispatched so quickly. But even in the darkest recesses of Limbo they knew of the Starchilde, and the overwhelming power of the Phoenix was feared even by the mightiest demons in the splinter dimensions. Certain spells, certain bindings could throw up enough psychic static to blind its telepathic sight, but the effect was extremely temporary and the cost to the spell casting mage was high. It was justified, of course, because should the girl read the right thought, then all of the Master's careful plans would be for naught. And for that, Kurt knew he would suffer as much as any. He'd been dead a few times, and then plucked back by blackest sorcery to be tortured to the brink of death again, and that was an experience he hoped to postpone as long as possible.

Still, she was a very attractive piece of meat. Of course, even after she was dead, she would be warm for some time, and there were some foul rites that required such desecration. The former X-man would be delighted to offer his services to that end.

He thrust the poniard – anticipating the sound of it puncturing her skin and the ensuing coda of a death rattle and the sight as the shine faded from those emerald eyes. Instead, just as the blade should have been piercing the base of her flesh en route to that oh so dangerous brain, it stopped dead, as if hitting something solid. His eyes popped open, as he feared that he'd hit her skull, and saw immediately he was in trouble.

Rachel had broken off the kiss, and her green eyes blazed with fury as she seized hold of his knife with her will, trapping his tail along with it. She jerked it upwards, and he came right along as she spun it around in circles, building up momentum and then smashing him against the stone floor, leaving him far too dazed to teleport.

Her hand reached out like a raptor's talons, and she grasped him around the neck, pulling him to his feet and up into the air. "If I were going to let you live," she snarled, "you could tell Belasco that his little spell wasn't worth the cost. I could read you well enough to recognize your depraved thoughts, much as I wish I hadn't."

She shoved him against one of the remaining walls, hearing a satisfying snapping sound as several of his ribs broke. He spat up blood, and his eyes, though clearly concussed, showed his fear.

"But I'm not going to let you live." Her voice turned cold. "You don't deserve it, and I won't permit our enemy to have even so inept a lieutenant back."

With her other hand, she telekinetically pulled his knife and tail out in front of him, hovering in front of his groin. "I think I may enjoy this – cutting you up piece by piece, starting by the piece that you seem to enjoy the most!"

However out of it he may have been, this new threat triggered a panic as she felt his prehensile tail tugged against her mental grip.

"Oh, and by the way, the real Kurt is a much better kisser than that. Hell, I had pillows who kissed better than you."

She maneuvered the blade slowly and deliberately. Her telepathy was slowly returning. It was as if her brain were receiving a scrambled television signal, which would briefly coalesce into a recognizable picture every few moments. She hoped that by making him focus on his fear, she might be able to hear that "right thought", and thus they might finally gain the upper hand.

"Say goodbye to Little Bamf," she flashed a tight smile.

Behind her, a voice screamed. "Rachel! No! Have you gone crazy?"

An arrow streaked into the ruins, ten feet above her head, and it exploded with a phosphorescent glare, forcing her to cover her eyes.

There was a terribly familiar sound of imploding air, and the stench of brimstone reached her nose.

_Damn it!_

Amanda and Dani ran up to the debris, the latter having quickly nocked another arrow and holding it at a half pull, ready to fire one of the few non-lethal shafts in her quiver. She didn't know what was happening in those ruins – their view had been obstructed by the trees. They had both caught a glimpse of Marvel Girl – or something that looked like her – threatening someone else who looked for all intents and purposes just like Nightcrawler. Amanda had screamed his name in a panic, and she almost instinctively had loosed a flare arrow, hoping to separate the pair long enough to figure out just what was going on. The way Kurt had almost immediately teleported made her seriously doubt her decision.

"What the hell are you doing, Dani? You made me let him go! What were you thinking?"

Forcing down the stubborn streak that made her want to yell right back at the furious telepath, she instead took a deep breath and said, "I think that I screwed up. I take it that wasn't our Nightcrawler who just escaped."

"You're damn right." The redhead's anger was diminished somewhat by Moonstar's apologetic tone, but was still palpable. "And I had just about gained access to those perverted brainwaves of his when you popped that flashbulb in my face. And now he's gone, back to Belasco."

Dani concentrated on slowly inhaling and exhaling, "Listen, I'm sorry. I reacted without thinking. I saw two of my teammates fighting, and I couldn't tell which was which or why. And Illyana had told us once that Kitty Pryde had killed that evil version of Kurt Wagner."

Amanda spoke up, "Even if that were true, it isn't necessarily a permanent condition here in Limbo. Even if you disregard the various necromantic spells, time and space don't mean very much here. Although the consequences for mucking around with such things is generally high, so I never tried it myself."

"Wonderful," Rachel said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "So is there any way to beat them? With any finality, I mean? Are we going to have to face a legion of degenerate Fuzzy elves, and a horde full of that big purple demon thing?"

The sorceress shook her head, "Multiple versions of the same person threaten the integrity of the continuum, and that increases exponentially with time and proximity. Having several Kurts in the same area for more than a few moments could tear this dimension asunder. I don't think the Elder Gods would be pleased about that, if this is their best gateway back to Earth."

"I guess that's a relief." The young psychic had started to rub her temples.

"Headache?" asked Danielle.

"The worst," she replied, wincing. "Too strong for Tylenol. Hey Amanda, can you do something to circumvent whatever your predecessor did to short circuit my telepathy? This psionic static is driving me crazy."

"I can try."

Rachel managed a weak smile, "Thanks… I appreciate it."

Amanda etched a silvery sigil in the air with her finger, then walked slowly around the time-displaced mutant. She traced the same rune three more times, once on each side, and slowly an ebon aura became visible around Marvel Girl. There were gaps where light streamed through, and she pointed these out, "These cracks are were the spell is breaking down. I can try a quick strike against it, to make it shatter and fall away, but it's risky – I would have to hit it with nearly everything I've got and that could conceivably do major damage to you. With your permission, I would instead like to try a harmonic inversion. I would apply a small amount of magic, and then slowly feed some more, trying to get a cascade that eventually tears the shield apart."

"Please, do it. I feel like a huge piece of me is missing. I need my telepathy to find our friends. And, hey, who knows? If you-know-who doesn't know you've broken the enchantment, maybe I'll be able to hit him with a sneak attack, and reduce his frontal lobes to Jello."

The witch let out a silvery laugh, "That'd be a wonderful resolution to all of this. There's no way it would work, but it's a nice thought."

Dani smirked, "Now who's being defeatist?"

"Hush, I have to concentrate." She began to chant, in a voice that seemed wholly alien to her, mouthing words that did not seem as if they could be formed by a human tongue. She reached out and touched the mystical blackness that surrounded Rachel with her pinky. The aura rippled ever so slightly, and then some more as she lay her index finger on the edge. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, but the words of the spell continued to tumble relentlessly from her.

Dani looked up, and noticed a dark cloud forming high above them, out of what had been a clear, if bleak, sky. It billowed menacingly, gaining strength and size. She saw that Amanda and Rachel were too focus on breaking the enchantment to realize the danger.

She could feel the charge building, could almost see the bolt starting to form. She yelled out, and the world turned black.

* * *

"Why, Doug? Why would you join him?" Her voice quavered; his appearance shook her to her very core.

"What can I say? I've learned the power of the dark side of the force," Douglas Ramsey responded with a mischievous smile that made his eyes of solid onyx look even more out of place. He barked out a word of power, and the inverted pentagram on the amulet he wore flashed with an unholy green fire. His obsidian blade erupted with the same flames, a flickering sheath comparable to her own energy blades.

Holding one katana pointed at him, at the ready, she slowly crouched down to retrieve its mate, her golden brown eyes locked into his of jet-black. "Don't make me kill you, Doug, please. I don't want to lose you again."

"Oh, I have no intentions of dying, Pryde. And I've no intentions on killing you, either. At least, no more than is necessary to ensure your obedience to our Master."

With both swords active and crackling with energy, Kitty adopted a fighting stance. "You're awfully cocky there, kid. Especially considering you know what I'm capable of."

"The more appropriate term is confident."

"I guess we'll have to see which word is most appropriate. If you are Doug Ramsey, I know how important the proper use of language is to you."

She tried very hard to ignore the voice inside. Reason told her that whomever she faced right now, it couldn't be the real Doug. Her Doug was too good, too nice a person to be turned into this… this obscenity standing before her. Clearly the Demon Lord had cast some sort of illusion or had mapped the features of her late friend onto one of his pet demons or some other, similar devious plan designed to throw her off, to weaken her resolve and make her easy prey. For all she knew, if it had been Kurt here instead of she, it may have been his stepbrother Stefan he encountered. Jean Grey – or maybe an adult Franklin Richards – would be as stunning to Rachel, and for Piotr, it might be Mikhail. Or, she thought with a pang of jealousy, Zsaji.

But her heart whispered to her that she was just rationalizing, to make the impending battle easier for her conscience.

She gritted her teeth, "We may as well get this over with."

"Agreed," Doug said. He'd adopted his own stance, and moved towards her in a slow glide, his footwork sure and steady.

She thumbed the controls on her hilts, amping the swords to maximum stun. Best to get this over with fast, to incapacitate this impostor and get back to the real enemy. She leapt into the air, her first sword arcing towards him on the backswing. It was a feint, to make him parry and thus open him up for her other blade, but she was shocked as he calmly deflected the one with a deft flick of his wrist, leaving him ample time to block the second strike.

He followed up with a cut to her midsection, that, even though she was in a phased state, she danced back from it. She felt her abdomen burn ice cold, and looked down to see her vest had been sliced open, despite it being as intangible as she. The edge had missed her flesh - barely – but her intestines heaved reflexively.

This might be a bit tougher than she thought.

She renewed her attack, making slight adjustments to her style to accommodate the loss of her phasing advantage. She went on the offensive, unleashing a fury of strikes, forcing Doug back as he spun his sword around in dizzying circles to parry. She managed to trap his dark blade between her two briefly, and used the opportunity to throw a sidekick that sent him sprawling.

Not hesitating, she pressed on, following up with a devastating right-handed overhand blow, that Doug desperately raised his sword to block

On her down stroke, she flicked her wrist, changing the angle to more three-quarters. As she guessed, he was able to twist and intercept the blade aiming at his head, but the force behind it, amplified by its photonic field, drove his sword to the side, pinning it. She'd created the opening she'd desired, and plunge the katana in her left hand towards his midsection.

With surprising agility, the young man managed to roll out of the way of her follow up thrust, although he had to relinquish his trapped sword to manage the feat. He lashed out with both legs to knock her off balance, a seemingly futile gesture as he passed right through her intangible body. But even as she flicked her blade in the direction of his chest, he had sprung to his feet right through her body.

She spun around to face him again, her right hand sword swinging in an arc, but he'd danced back. He had the audacity to laugh, "I seem to have misplaced something there," he said, indicating his fallen weapon.

She hesitated a split second, remembering how Illyana had told her that it was her refusal to strike down an unarmed Belasco that had saved the remaining two-fifths of her soul.

In that moment, Doug's hand reached out, and his medallion flashed. The obsidian blade flashed, and then flew through the air right at her. She leapt to her right, dodging it, and when she resumed her fighting stance, her opponent was armed once again.

On his throne, the red-skinned Demon Lord let out a boisterous laugh, bordering on a psychotic cackle. His ring-laden fingers again measured out the staccato of mocking applause. "Excellent, excellent! Wonderful entertainment! Please, continue!"

Doug Ramsey saluted his master with his sword, and then turned to face Shadowcat, who glared at him with anger and hurt in her eyes. "You've pleased him. It's a good start. Maybe he'll remember this during all the times in the future when you fail him and he needs to chastise you."

Her thoughts racing, unable to see how this could possibly be one of her best friends and yet knowing with every fiber of her body that it was, she steeled herself. She took long measured breaths, seeking the correct frame of mind to be able to defeat him, trying to purge the anger, the insecurity, the fear. He was matching her, every slash and parry. And it wasn't that he showed exceptional skill, but he was instead able to anticipate her attacks with uncanny ability, as if she were telegraphing her entire fight. It clicked – he was reading her! Her body language – a use of his power he had shown hints of, but to this degree? It was truly astonishing, and daunting as well.

"I trust your doubts are falling away?" he spoke, "You know it's me, Pryde. You now realize how wimpy little Doug is able to cross swords with the super ninja girl and live to tell the tale!"

Kitty found her center. She had been giving away her attacks by subtle involuntary movements that she wasn't even aware of. Instead, she had to rely on instinct, let her reflexes hold sway – she couldn't give away what she didn't know she would do herself.

"Well, Ramsey," she said, "Come and get me."

"I've been waiting for you to say that for five years, Kitty." He leapt at her.

She knew he couldn't see it coming. His slash – he'd intended it as a feint – was caught on one sword, and then pinned with the second. Her leg, now solid, swept his from beneath him and before he had hit the ground, she'd struck his sword hand with one blade and plunged the other into his chest.

He hit the ground with a thud, the photonic blade's energy cascading around his body.

She kicked his dark blade away, and even that numbed her foot, but as she turned back, she was surprised to see Doug climbing to his feet.

"Ah, I knew you'd win! I knew it! I did my best, but, damn girl, you're good!" He was smiling, "I missed you, Kitty… and I'm so happy you'll be joining us."

She rolled her eyes, and deactivated her swords. Apparently he had some sort of mystical resistance, and they weren't going to be of any use. As much as she regretted it, she was going to have to beat him the old fashioned way. She dropped into a low stance.

Douglas looked over at Belasco, who nodded approvingly. Her former friend raised his cloak over his bowed head, and then, without warning, his amulet glowed bright as he stabbed out his left hand, index finger extended. Green lightning erupted, slamming into her, driving her to her knees. Writhing in pain, she didn't notice that the energy stream was solidifying around her, forming a magickal lattice that entrapped her.

The pain wracked her body, and she could no longer fight the encroaching darkness.

* * *

Nightcrawler felt he'd been walking for days, and the castle still hovered tantalizingly on the horizon. For all he knew, it had been days since he'd begun walking. Or it may have been mere hours. He was beyond weary, but not sleepy. He was bone tired, and the yellow and black box he carried – their final resort - tugged at his leaden arms, but still he felt no urge to set up camp. Not that he dared sleep out here, not knowing what infernal denizens might be creeping about. He took a few bites of a high calorie nutrient bar, even though he didn't feel hungry.

Before him now lay a vast desert, with rolling dunes under a blazing red sun. He hefted his pack, gauging the water level inside the bladder within. Not full enough, he feared, and his indigo fur made the thought of crossing that expanse particularly daunting.

"I suppose I should have asked Amanda to install air conditioning. Not that Belasco would have been so charitable as to leave it running – especially since he's not even allowing night to fall." He knew the joke was especially bad, but he needed to keep his own spirits up.

As his left foot touched down on the scorching sand, the landscape seemed to shimmer and change. He thought it nothing but a mirage, as brown colored spikes seemed to burst forth from the ground a short distance ahead. But they continued to grow, shooting hundreds of meters into the air, and rising fast.

His ribcage ached suddenly, as if in response to this strange materialization. A quick test of his pulse found it to be slow and steady, and lacking any other symptoms he decided that it was not his health that was the matter. As an itching sensation began to manifest in the middle of his chest, he surmised that the Soulsword was the cause, as it responded to the goings on before him.

His eyes were drawn upwards, up above the jagged tips of rock that had finally stopped their ascent. A flickering light was plummeting towards the spires at incredible velocity. Something highly reflective, by the look of it – a meteorite, perhaps? Space debris? He quickly reconsidered, realizing it was foolish to expect natural phenomena in this world of Sorcery. Choosing instead to shave with Occam's razor, the most likely source of reflective material in a dimension that regarded most metals as anathema was his teammate, Colossus.

Kurt knew that even if he were permitted to teleport up there, there was nothing he could do to save his friend. Peter would normally survive such a fall, but those stony points would certainly change that. He watched helplessly, knowing it would all be over in mere seconds.

To his surprise, the metallic skinned man somehow dodged a spire, and fragments of rock exploded around his descent. There were tense moments- as Kurt could barely make out that he almost got impaled on a lower spike – but soon the huge Russian was climbing down under his own power.

Forgetting himself, he teleported over there, and was surprised when he did in fact materialize right underneath the descending mutant. "Peter!"

"Kurt, my friend! You're alive!"

"And unharmed, relative to you, it seems. You gave me a bad fright there." Nightcrawler laughed, putting down the box he carried in order to hug the large man.

"Me, also." Piotr smiled. "But my little snowflake helped me! She lives, Kurt. Illyana Nikolievna is alive!"

A surge of joy filled his heart, and he could swear he felt the sword within him start to dance. "That's wonderful, Peter! Where is she?"

"I do not know where – but she spoke to me, she slowed time to allow me to escape Belasco's deathtrap." His honest face radiated his excitement. "We must find her, and Katya and the rest. Then we will visit a fitting justice on that evil man who calls himself Lord of this foul realm."

* * *

"I am sorry, Logan. The path to Otherplace is barred to me. And even if it were in my power, I would not aid you. Your presence would cause their quest to fail, if it has not already."

"Listen, Doc, the cheap suit here and I are gonna make it there one way or another, so why don't you jus' twiddle yer fingers and send us there?"

"The matter is closed. I bid you farewell."

The two appeared in an alley behind the Bleecker Street residence.

"Well, wasn't he the cheerful sort?"

"Stuff it, spyboy."

"Where next?"

"We try to catch up with Forge."

"And if he refuses?"

"I dunno, maybe I'll ask Victor von Doom. I'm makin' this up as I go along. You got any better ideas?"

"Not a one."

"Then will ya please shut up?"


	7. Bleakness Falls

Pain radiated from every nerve in Kitty Pryde's body, jolting her awake. She shivered against the cold of the dank flagstones of her cell, and took stock of her situation. She was alive, yes. Doug had mentioned that they had plans for her, and that made her shiver all the more. She couldn't be certain that his eldritch bolt hadn't actually killed her and then brought her back to life with the same infernal process Belasco had used on Doug.

She was inclined to think not – aside from the throbbing ache all over, she didn't feel any different, with her hatred for the demon sorcerer burning with the same fire as before. More, even, considering the fresh surge of anger over what he must have done to corrupt her friend.

The frigid air raised gooseflesh all over her skin, and she realized that she was naked. Typical humiliation technique, she knew, but she still couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the thought of Belasco, or, more likely, his underlings, stripping off her costume. Her thoughts turned strange at the idea of Doug removing her clothing. Emma, back in the day in her role as the Hellfire Club's White Queen, had said that he'd loved her – and that, even though she was with Peter at the time, she'd returned those feelings. Nothing ever came of it – she never even told him about everything that had happened at the Massachusetts Academy during that horrible time. If things had been different – had she not run away to Japan, had he not fallen for Betsy Braddock, _had he lived…- _maybe their close friendship might have blossomed into something more.

After the Breakworld, when she and Peter finally got to sit down and talk about everything, he had confessed that he'd been jealous of Doug back then, doubts that couldn't have helped when he was stranded by the Beyonder.

Lost in thought, she almost missed the sound of the heavy door opening behind her, and the soft footsteps walking up to her cell.

"Not quite like old times, is it, Pryde?"

Her hands flew up reflexively to cover her nakedness. "Y'know, I never figured you for the perv type, Ramsey. Makes me glad I didn't do a full search of your old computer and look beyond those old swimsuit photos of Betsy."

It was too dark to tell, but she hoped that he had the decency to blush at her insinuation. There was a pause before he spoke again. "Well played, Kitty. Well played indeed." He laughed, a tone that eerily reminded her of his master. "We both know the deal here. You have no clothes because clothing is earned. By obedience and obeisance. Favor must be curried, dignity must be earned. You may feel that defiance is good for your soul, but that belongs to Lord Belasco now. You belong to him. He could have compelled you, you know. Changed you, magickally. He's done it before, to a different Kitty. You've heard what happened to Cat, I know that Illyana told you. He could make it that serving his every whim brings you to the height of ecstasy, and to disappoint him will drive you to the brink of suicide.

"I pointed out to him that you would be a much greater asset with as much of your will intact as possible. I am gladdened that he agreed with me."

"Ah, I get it. This is where you tell me that I should join up, learn magic, and that together we could overthrow Belasco and rule Limbo as mutant and mutant."

In the dim light, she could see him shake his head sadly. "You misunderstand me. This isn't a movie. This is real. I am real. And my soul belongs entirely to him."

Deflated, she asked quietly, "What happened to you, Doug? Why are you acting like this?"

"How should I act? Tell me that, Kitty! I died! For all that we played at being heroes, flying off to Asgard and meeting gods… and then I get shot by some lame Dr. Moreau wannabe! How pathetic is that? And then Illyana dumps me in Limbo – I can only assume in a failed attempt to heal me – and just leaves me there. For Belasco to find."

"But Illyana never dropped you into Limbo! They brought your body home – to your parents!"

"Were you there? Or were you off in England, recuperating with that big metal pal of yours? All I know is that I woke up here and my wounds were healed. He took me on as his apprentice, and I have been with him since. He has given me power – no longer am I the weakling I was. He has shown me applications of my talent that Professor Xavier kept hidden. With the scrying discs, I have seen futures where we rule the world, Kitty! Us! I have seen us expand the reign of the Old Ones throughout the cosmos!"

"Count me out." She replied, "I'm not interested."

Anger crept into his voice. "I'm afraid that it isn't a request."

* * *

Kurt was happy to confess that having a companion along made for easier and quicker travel. Colossus, with near limitless stamina in his armored form, set a strong pace that seemed to gobble up the miles. And using his good friend as a reference point, he had been able to pierce the illusion of distance that had made the desert seem so vast. It would still be a journey of several days, but it was manageable now.

It had been difficult to convince Peter to stop for a rest – the Russian powerhouse was in a state of extreme agitation that permeated the normally stoic visage of organic steel. But even he would admit that the conditions were too harsh for Nightcrawler to survive without at least a brief respite. So using his prodigious strength, he managed to quickly dig out a small pit. From his pack, Kurt pulled a small package that unfolded into a six-foot square of unstable molecule fabric. They fastened this over the hole, its one highly reflective side facing outward, and the fuzzy blue elf climbed inside.

He huddled beneath the shelter, relishing in the shade. Peter had handed him his own water skin, pointing out that he would remain in his armored form for the duration of the mission, until such time as he was again reunited with Kitty and Illyana. He spoke plainly, not with a sense of optimism but one of resolve – that the rescue of his friends and loved ones was the only acceptable option for him.

Kurt nestled down, trying to get comfortable. He forced his mind to quiet. Despite the trap they'd walked into, Amanda, bless her, had gotten them out – well, he and Peter, certainly, and surely the others had gotten out as well. They were, after all, X-men, and miraculous escapes were their stock in trade.

He began a series of meditative prayers he had learned during his time training with Father Whitney. It was his belief that God would watch over him, even in this infernal dimension, and he took comfort in that. His eyes closed, and the sleep he'd been denying himself, the sleep his body so desperately craved, took hold and stole away his consciousness.

Peter heard the soft, regular breathing of his friend and envied him. His own thoughts remained disquieted, a torrent of images of how to defeat the Demon Lord and his minions interspersed with the faces of his missing comrades and dear ones. He found himself quite anxious over Kitty. He knew that there would have been no way to force her to remain behind, that to even make such an attempt would only have driven a wedge between them. But not knowing where she was, not being certain she wasn't in peril right now – that Belasco might target her more than any of them – nearly set him to panic. Reflexively, he clenched his fists and tried to focus on his sentry duties.

Kurt's eyes popped open. It was significantly cooler now, and he found himself shivering, despite his fur. Glancing up at their improvised cover, he realized that night appeared to have fallen. He fumbled a bit with his pack, finally locating a powerful LED handlight.

Working quickly, he gathered his supplies into his pack, and hefted the box that held the dimensional bomb. If their host would be so kind as to provide a more bearable environment for travel, they were certainly going to take advantage of it. He shouldered his pack, securing the device to it carefully, and stepped out into the now frigid air. It nagged at him that the sorcerer would make it so natural seeming, instead of hitting them with whatever his twisted mind could come up with. He glanced upwards at a cloudless sky void of stars, at a reddish pink moon that stared down at him angrily.

He looked over at Peter, who was standing watch with his back to him. Not watching very well, Kurt thought, as his friend hadn't so much as turned his head at the sounds he had made when he got up. "Peter_, mein freund, _it is hardly a comfort to find you asleep at your post." He walked towards the large man, whose armored flesh was glowing blood red under the moonlight. There was no response. "Peter?"

He crossed the remaining distance a teleport, reappearing in front of his companion, his light shining right at his friend, "Peter this is no time for jok-"

Colossus – or what remained of him – was still standing, but it was immediately apparent that he was no longer living. There was a gaping hole where his chest should have been, as if his body had been a hollow shell.

"Tut, tut," came a voice, oozing with malice. "Poor boy let the rage eat'm up inside."

It was too dark to make out much detail, but based on the hulking outline and the orange glow from the cigar, it wasn't hard for Nightcrawler to figure out who it was.

"Sy'm, you murderous scum…" His pack dropped to the desert sand, and two sabers flashed in the night. His next words were measured, cold as death. "I'm going to kill you, demon."

"Now, now goblin, ya got it all wrong…"

Nightcrawler's eyes narrowed to yellow slits of pure fury. "I think not…" Strategies filtered through his head of ways he would destroy this abomination.

"I tell ya, yer wrong about me… I ain't Sym."

Teleport his head off? Or up, a thousand feet up? Into the ground? Wolverine had been scarcely been able to cut him with his adamantium claws, so he had no great hopes his own blades would do anything against that hide. But Belasco's lieutenant was a talker, and engaging him would give the mutant time to determine the best way to end his miserable life. "You'll have to forgive me. You look – and sound – just like a fetid piece of excremental refuse I've had the utter misfortune to have met."

The hulking figure advanced slowly, "Now, now. That ain't no way t' talk about…"

Kurt raised his hand lamp to shine directly at the approaching demon. To his shock, it wasn't the purple hue of their old adversary revealed by the light, but a dull reddish brown. "… my brother!"

"_Mein Gott, _your brother?"

"Yep, poor ol' S'ym got hisself all dead, and the Master asked me t' fill his shoes."

Kurt's eyes traveled over to the… body… of his friend, standing yet in the moonlight. His resolve tightened. "That's as may be, but I will still kill you… whatever your name may be."

A wide grin of needle-like fangs formed on the monster's face. "There are some who call me… T'ym."

Kurt groaned inside, but right before he initiated his teleport attack, the world shook, and he was nearly knocked to the ground.

"Ah, welcome to my domain, Wagner!"

The voice boomed all around, but its source was unmistakable – the reddish moon was melting into the hated face of the Sorcerous Lord of the realm. He continued, 'Have you come to swear fealty to me, Imp? To take your place by my side? I suppose I could be so magnanimous as to find a position for you…"

"Never!" Kurt snarled, seized by fury. He was dimly aware of the sheer impossibility of the action that was formulating itself in his brain – a desperate teleport up to that hideous grin that had replaced the moon in the night sky. Even if it was not thousands of miles away in space, the distance was still out of his maximum range. And there was no weapon in his arsenal to harm such an apparition, no matter how great his desire for vengeance.

His chest grew hot, and it dawned on him that there was one weapon that might work. A weapon that he knew even Belasco feared. His right hand seemed to move of its own volition to draw the Soulsword from its metaphysical scabbard inside him.

What is with you men and not thinking things through? C'mon, fuzzy, I'd expect such foolishness from my brother – or Sam or 'Berto, but you? You're the clear headed one!

"_Gott im Himmel, _is that really you!"

_**Spit and blazes, Nightcrawler, will you hush! Remember that there are some words that shouldn't be said in Limbo – they'll attract the wrong sort of crowd.**_

"Are you alive? Or are you a ghost?"

_**I'm sorry, Kurt, I can't answer that.**_

"Can you at least help me avenge your brother? They killed Peter!"

_**Did they? Are you sure?**_

"I saw it with my own eyes, Illyana. His chest ripped open by Belasco's creature there!"

He was shocked at the tone of amusement in the disembodied voice. Something dawned on him. "Unless – this is Limbo, nothing is as it seems."

_**Good boy, follow that thought!**_

"I'm still asleep – I'm dreaming. He's trying to make me reveal our plans, isn't he?"

_**Gold star, fuzzy elf. Now wake up and help my brother!**_

His eyes popped open, then shut against the light streaming through the cracks in his shelter. Not night at all, another deception. He 'ported outside, where Colossus was engaged with the demon from his dream.

Kurt saw immediately that not everything in that dream had been the product of Belasco's imagination. The demon that so resembled their old nemesis S'ym was the same reddish hue he'd been in his nightmare. Whether he was actually the brother of that purple monstrosity they'd fought - or if his name was as given or just the product of Kitty forcing them to watch a Monty Python marathon the previous weekend - remained to be seen. What was obvious was that Colossus was not dead, but might be so soon

He had no way of knowing, but it was a safe bet that this creature was at least as strong as his predecessor, and the image Wolverine had described, of Peter as an old man, his chest ripped out, was intimidating, to say the least. His friend was in there slugging it out with someone who might have Juggernaut class strength, and the viciousness to put it to uses that Cain Marko, at his most villainous, never dreamed.

Colossus was also mindful of Wolverine's recollection, as well as having his armor punctured by an adamantium claw hurled by S'ym during their first sojourn to this dimension. If this new creature, a twin of Belasco's pet, had that power, a single mistake might prove deadly. But no, he had fought too hard. Katya and his sister were counting on him. He dodged another huge fist and landed a solid blow to the ribs.

"Yer tougher than my brother said, I'll give ya that," the demon growled through clenched teeth. "But soon you'll be as dead as yer sister." He flicked his tail, whipping it around in a low arc to sweep Piotr's legs from beneath him. The X-man jumped over it, but caught a spinning backhand to his jaw, sending him flying.

"Yer sister - now there was a fine wisp of a gal. Oh, the things S'ym used t' tell me, 'bout her an' him an' the Master, it'd make even your shiny skin blush."

Peter clambered to his feet, gritting his teeth with rage. "I would not say such lies, whoever you are."

"Touch a nerve, little guy? Dontcha know that us demons never lie when th' truth is so much more fun?" It blew a smoke ring at him, then beckoned him forward with a single claw. "If ya doubt me, yer welcome t' make yer point with yer fist."

"Peter, no!" Kurt cried out, "He's just trying to goad you into fighting rashly! Don't fall for it!"

Colossus spared his friend a glance, adding tersely, "It's working." He charged.

"Come t' poppa, metalman. T'ym's got jus' the thing fer ya."

His skin gleaming in the sun, Piotr ran at the larger creature, his arms outstretched, intent on grappling it and squeezing out whatever passed for life in this horrible realm. The monster smiled, crouching down, its large clawed hands twitching at the thought of easy prey.

Nightcrawler watched in horror as his teammate headed inexorably towards almost certain death. Logan had warned him, but there was no stopping the impetuous attack now. Perhaps a quick teleport – take him out of harm's way. He triggered his mutation – only to reappear just where he was. Belasco, curse him, blocking his power again.

The large Russian mutant had crossed the distance, and the demon leaned forward slightly to take advantage of its opponent's rage. Seeing this, Peter suddenly dove forward, past the grasping claws. He grabbed the long red tail, and began to spin it around like a hammerthrow, finally sending it flying in a red blur.

The pair watched the figure travel in a long arc over the landscape, seemingly traversing miles in a matter of seconds. "We should press on, my friend. It will return soon and I doubt such a ruse will work again."

Kurt looked at him strangely. "You know, Peter, you had me as fooled as much as T'ym.. I had thought - had feared - that you had succumbed to your rage and would be easy pickings."

"To be honest, I have rarely been so angry. But as Logan said before we started out, if I hope to be an asset to the team, I cannot afford to let myself be ruled by my emotions. I may not be as smart as _Gospodin_ Xavier or Katya, nor so wise as you or Ororo, but I will not allow my anger to be a liability. There is too much at stake."

"Perhaps," his blue furred companion said softly, "You are not so foolish as you believe yourself to be."

* * *

Rachel was headblind again. Worse than before, in fact. Not only could she not perceive any thoughts anywhere around her, she couldn't "feel" anything with her telekinesis.

On top of everything, she was unable to see anything. She was surrounded by total darkness, to the point where she wondered if she"'d been blinded physically as well as psychically.

Even if she would never admit it to herself, much less to whatever had imprisoned her thus, she was scared.

* * *

It was cold and dank and she hated being surrounded by stone. Danielle Moonstar sprang to her feet. They'd taken her weapons - they'd even taken her clothes - but she wasn't going to lie down and cower against the chill and the cruelness of fate. She stumbled through the dark to get a sense of where she was. The door was locked tight, of course, and the bars on the windows were wide enough only for the slimmest rays of light to get  
through, not enough to see but instead creating a gloomy atmosphere in her cell.

She continued to feel along the wall for anything she might be able to use against her captors. Her hand jerked back in revulsion when she felt something slither beneath her fingers. Gritting her teeth, she returned to her examination of the area. She found herself holding onto som slimy metal chains when she tripped over a heap piled in a corner.

It moaned.

Dani dropped back into a defensive posture, narrowing her eyes, trying to peer into the darkness. The moan continued – a familiar, human sound, a human in pain – and she dropped to her knees, feeling around in the gloom. The figure was female, her only clothing a gag. With a great deal of effort, the young Cheyenne woman managed to undo the cloth, and the person took long, rasping breaths before devolving into a fit of coughing.

Kneeling next to her, Dani could only put a worried arm on the woman's shoulder. She was shocked at how thin and frail she was, and wondered how long she'd been imprisoned in here.

"My name is Danielle Moonstar, I'm with – "

"D- Dani?" croaked the voice, rusty and hoarse with disuse. "Dani, it's me..."

Moonstar recognized the voice, but couldn't believe it.

It was Amanda.

* * *

The sleek X-Jet flew low over the mountains of Northern Canada, bouncing in the turbulence created by the weather systems created by those snow-covered peaks.

"I can see where Pryde learned to fly," said Wisdom, his face bearing a distinctive green cast to it. "Are you sure you don't want to turn around and have another go at that last one - I think there's still some paint left on the bottom of this bucket of bolts."

"An' I still can't see what Kit ever saw in you. Couldn't have been that complete lack of a sense a'humor ya got there." Logan said, "Now quit yer whining while I find a place to land this thing."

Pete rolled his eyes, "Now that's something to look forward to. Are you sure that old Witch Hazel down there can get us to Limbo?"

Wolverine snarled, "No, I ain't sure. I don't know any more a' this magic crap than you do. I do know that every techno-genius and wizard-type in Chuck's rolodex been hangin' up on me, if they bother t' pick up the phone at all, so I figger the only way I'm going to get a hold of one is to make a house call and use my nat'ral charisma."

"We're doomed."

A ghostly image appeared between them. "Your mission was from the start, Mr. Wisdom."

"Gah!" he exclaimed, "Don't you bloody superheroes ever knock?"

"Howdy, Elizabeth. Yer lookin' well, fer an astral projection an' all," smiled Logan. "Now what was that about bein' doomed?"

"Dr. Strange put out a mystical APB on you two, saying we shouldn't help you get there. While I'm not terribly inclined to listen to what that arrogant son of a shoggoth has to say normally, he made a lot of sense. Especially since you're involved, Wolverine. Stories of your stubbornness and hot-headedness are still bandied about the countryside."

"Tell me, Logan, is there a spandex wearer you haven't worked with? Or at least one that doesn't think you're a complete git?" the British agent said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't suppose I'll be able to convince you to give up on this madness and return to the States?" the raven-haired image said, resigned to the answer.

"Mac taught ya better'n that, darlin'," answered her country mate with an impish grin. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're runnin' out of time."

"To think my father calls me obstinate."

"Give yer old man and the gang my best. Tell 'em we knew that chump wasn't enough to take 'em out permanently. Maybe we'll see them back in action soon."

The projection nodded and fizzled out of existence.

"Now what?" challenged Wisdom.

Logan had turned the plane around and was heading back east. They'd wasted the whole day and his temper was beginning to get the better of him. Strange, Richards, Forge, and now Talisman had all turned them down. He didn't care for the idea of approaching Dr. Doom, but he would. He needed to be there, with Kit and the elf and the Russkie, and of course Ray. He'd made a promise to himself that he'd keep that kid out of trouble, for Jean's sake.

"I'm settin' course for Latveria. Hang on – we've wasted enough time as it is."

Pete choked, "Von Doom? I thought you were joking about that!" He seemed to agonize for a few minutes, then his shoulders slumped. "Scylla and Charybdis indeed. Bugger Latveria and bugger doom – point this thing at London."

Wolverine looked over at him. "Are you thinking of using yer old Black Air connections? They got some sort of dimensional transport there?"

"No, not Black Air. I'm going to suck up my pride and ask my wife."


	8. Devil's Snare

All the characters are Marvel's, not mine. I'm just playing with them, and I'm not making a dime off it.

* * *

"How proceeds young Katherine's indoctrination?" Belasco demanded of his servant. "Well, I trust?"

Doug grimaced, and bowed low to hide his disappointment. "She is a stubborn woman, my lord. I fear that I have not as yet been able to convince her of our cause." He peered up at the figure on the throne, trying to gauge his mood. "Yeee-ARRRRRGH!" he cried out as his body was wracked with overwhelming waves of pain. He'd expected as much, had seen the punishment coming, but there was nothing he could do to prepare for it. The green nimbus that surrounded him set every nerve in his body to fire, while simultaneously preventing him from passing out.

"Thank you, m'lord," he stammered out through gritted teeth, "My chastisement is well deserved, for I have failed you."

"Quite." smiled the sorcerer. "I will not be so gentle again. I see that you are allowing your own feelings to interfere with your progress. I would suggest that you focus on the task at hand - if you are not successful, I will simply tear her soul out and bend her to my purpose. It may deprive me of her full potential, but it would be sufficient to my ends."

"Yes, m'lord." Doug said, forcing his concern from his voice and pushing in more obsequious tones. "I will not err so ag-aAAYIIIIIIIIIIII!!" He collapsed to the floor, limbs contorting in the jade fire streaming from his master's hand.

"See that you do not," came the Demon Lord's command. "My pets, return him to his quarters and give him twenty lashes to remember his failure by."

Two imps scampered out to Doug's body that lay gasping on the floor, his finery having been charred right off his body, leaving only his silver amulet around his neck. They dragged him out of the throne room.

Kitty looked disdainfully at the plate of... something... that had been shoved through a small slit in her cell door. Never mind that it could be poisoned, or laced with any number of magickal substances to weaken her will; she was fairly sure that the demonic servants of the castle had  
little comprehension of the most basic elements of hygienic food preparation. And she was quite certain that it was by no means kosher.

* * *

She paced around the cell, generating the impression to any surreptitious watchers - _Doug_? She had to force herself from blushing at that thought - that she was restless and impatient. All the while, she worked on accessing her phasing ability. She'd tried the walls, ceilings and floors as soon as Doug had left, and they remained stubbornly solid to her touch. The room was almost devoid of any sort of furnishing or adornment - no doubt these too would have to be "earned" - so she was unable to determine if her power had been nullified or there was a spell on all the surrounding surfaces that made it impossible to get through. Her hand moved unconsciously to her cheek, where long ago Illyana had cut her with her soulsword. She was vulnerable to magic; that had been made abundantly clear, both then and now. She had to change her approach.

All the while, she was attempting to convince herself that the reason she hadn't tried to take Doug out and escape was that she really was trying to garner information to be used later.

Lost in these thoughts, she was nearly startled by the opening of the door. She could make out Amanda's form against the gray light of the portal.

"Hello, Kitty." The German sorceress's voice was tired, but not pained, and she was wearing a dark tunic and cloak.

"You're looking well, 'Manda," she said suspiciously, "Surprisingly well, in fact."

The gypsy sorceress raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "How long have you known?"

"I didn't - not until now, not for sure. You played the part well." Kitty said.

"Not well enough, apparently," the woman replied, sadly. Even in the low light, there was a haunted look to her eyes. "What gave me away?"

Shadowcat paused a moment before replying. "Nothing big, a million little things. You were a little too eager with Kurt - last he'd told me that he and Amanda were at a really awkward stage in their relationship, working on being friends despite their history. You came in all gangbusters, like that had never happened." She chewed her lip thoughtfully, "And your fever that wouldn't break, and your wounds that wouldn't heal. I talked to Josh Foley, he said they felt different than the ones we received in the battle, like they were resisting his power. Dr. Reyes backed him up. The fact that you didn't want to face Dr. Strange, especially in his Sanctum, as if you might not be able to get past his wards. The 'medicine' you took on the plane - it wasn't the antibiotic Cecilia gave you - that has no aftertaste. When you were teleporting us, you were facing the wrong way in the pentagram. The Amanda I know never did black magic..."

"You're quite the detective, aren't you?" The question was rhetorical. "Some of that was necessary. That won't mean anything to Lord Belasco, however." Her posture was dejected, of a woman about to face her executioner.

Suppressing the momentary surge of pity, Kitty asked, in a quiet voice, "Is the Amanda I knew - is she..."

"Dead? No. She's been kept around, and a mystical link set up so I could access her memories, to keep me from making mistakes. Alas, it was to no avail."

Relieved, the young woman let out a breath. Then she spoke, "And who are you - really?"

"I'm Amanda Sefton." She cut off Kitty's protest with a wave of her hand. "No, hear me out. I am Amanda, or rather, Jimaine Szardos. I was pulled from one of the dimensions where Belasco had succeeded in freeing the Old Ones. They corrupted the Winding Way, and so too were the souls of all who traveled its path. My Master had retrieved me before he began his assault. My presence confused Limbo; the dimension itself couldn't determine who was its rightful ruler. This void in power allowed him to seize control away from my counterpart."

"Why are you telling me this?" challenged Kitty, her tone suspicious.

The witch looked her squarely in the eyes. "Because it doesn't matter anymore? Because a part of me remembers growing up with my darling, innocent Kurt, before he was twisted into Belasco's servant... the word love doesn't mean much to me anymore. It hasn't for a long time. But the memory of love - of a kind, good humored and good hearted boy who loved a girl who once shared my name - I feel that, somewhere. All of my corruption and degradation wasn't able to bury that completely. And to see what that blue-furred boy could have grown up to be... There isn't anything good in me anymore, Kitty. I know what I've become, and I revel in it. Cruelty and spite are second nature to me now. This little heart-to-heart we're having now is so completely anathema to the person I am that I scarcely believe the words coming out of my mouth."

Crossing her arms, not so much to cover her nakedness as to show defiance, she answered, "How poignant. You'll forgive me if I'm a tad skeptical..."

"You should be. I was sent here to show you the advantages of compliance - to stand before you clothed, well fed. But I do not think that my Master is so naive to think you would be swayed by such a transparent gambit. So it's entirely probably that I've been sent to illustrate some other point. The price of failure, perhaps, or something far more obscure. It could even be that he has found the methods of poor Douglas to be unsatisfactory, and he believes my candor will cause you to lower your defenses slightly, allowing him to plant a psychic seed to begin your indoctrination."

Kitty stiffened at that, and a fresh set of shivers shot down to the base of her spinal column. She didn't think she'd let down her guard at all, but she wasn't sure if she'd even be able to detect so insidious a magickal attack. She spoke evenly, pushing down the uncontrollable feeling that something evil was growing inside her, "I see. Thank you for being so frank with me."

Jimaine – for Kitty refused to think of her as Amanda in order to disassociate her from the woman she knew - stood there a moment, her face forlorn yet resigned. The moment froze for Kitty, the image burning into her retina as an inky blackness appeared from above, surrounding the woman in front of her. Jimaine had time to scream, an ear-piercing shriek that reverberated off the walls that made it even more terrifying. Though the ebon cloud should have obscured the grisly scene, Kitty could still see the flashes of crimson as the woman was cut again and again, her skin flayed off her body piece by piece. The young mutant's empty stomach heaved as this ersatz Amanda was methodically and brutally murdered before her eyes.

She dragged herself into the corner and retched.

* * *

Slitted yellow eyes watched two figures moved steadily across the barren landscape; one very large, one of normal height but dwarfed by his companion's immensity. A long serpentine tongue flickered from between razor sharp teeth. From its mountaintop aerie, one that hadn't existed an hour before, the creature stirred to movement, spreading vast iridescent wings that blotted out the landscape below. The Great Wyrm, which also had come to be within the hour, took wing, the joy of the hunt singing in its blood.

Oblivious to this new threat, Peter and Kurt made their way over the sand. Their pace was strong despite the shifting and treacherous dunes, and their spirits could almost be considered high. Their talk was light, though the topic was deadly serious.

"I think, _tovarisch, _that was too easy. Having fought S'ym before, I must confess that I expected a much more difficult battle. It is almost as if…"

Nightcrawler finished for him, "As if he wants us to get to him. I have the same thought. But he isn't going to make it easy for us. He's going to try to wear us down, to distort our perceptions, to weaken us for whatever he has planned."

"_Da._ So we should keep on guard." The large man frowned, "I feel that I need to talk about something, about what I told you earlier of my sister aiding me during my fall. I know that my sanity has been questionable in the past, and that hearing voices is not considered a positive trait, especially the voices of the supposed dead…"

"I believe what you said, and I do not believe Illyana is dead, Peter. I have heard her too, in a dream I had."

Peter laughed, "It is good to hear this. I was beginning to doubt myself. We both know what this place can do."

Kurt scratched his chin, noting that his whiskers had become quite noticeable, giving him a ragged appearance. If such a sign could be trusted, they had been going for several days now, but he had no way to be sure. His chronometer had ceased working as soon as he survived, as had his compass. "So, assuming Limbo hasn't driven us to a shared hallucination of your sister, it seems likely that she's maintained some sort of existence here. Perhaps part of her that hadn't been transformed back to a child?"

"Or, perhaps, she substituted a child for herself. Plucking an innocent version of herself out of time and encasing it that burned out armor for me to find," the Russian said, bitterly, "And all this time, we never looked for her, she was trapped here. What a dunce I was, what a terrible brother!"

"Calm yourself, _mein freund_. Please. I should think that Amanda would have told had she sensed Illyana's presence anywhere in Limbo. It is likely your sister may even have been at peace, until the return of Belasco." He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. The desert heat, even if illusory, was taking a toll. "And if I may be so bold – she did choose to make this sacrifice. In the past, you have tried to justify your decision to take the Legacy cure at the cost of your own life. Do not be so hypocritical that you would deny her this same choice."

Colossus looked at his companion helplessly.

"You are so eager to blame yourself, Peter, even if there is nothing you could do. This, as much as your anger, is something that Belasco will seek to exploit."

* * *

The scrying crystal focused tightly on the two individuals, as Belasco watched, amused at the conversation. He sensed that his servant had returned, and was hiding in the shadows.

"Come forth, demon, and report!"

The gruff voice called out, "Can't say I'm all that eager t' git my tail burned off, even if y' sent me there wantin' me t' fail."

"Why T'ym, whatsoever would make you think that?"

The large red creature stepped forward. "Don't try an' kid a demon, boss. The word's spread what y' did t' yer gypsy plant, and it even turns my stomach." He let out a loud belch, "Well, it's that or those lizard things I ate weren't ripe yet."

"Tut, tut, that was all in the past. Now slither over and tell me what you discovered in your reconnaissance."

T'ym's steps were tentative as he approached his master. "The Tinman doesn't have it, I'm sure o' that. The goblin on th' other hand… he had something funky going on inside. Didn't fall fer yer glamour, but he's hiding somethin'. Oh, an' he's got th' device."

"Excellent news. We just need to ensure they do not activate it until a time of my choosing." His reddish face reflected the glow of the crystal as he watched the events in the desert. "For now, let my Wyrm provide some entertainment. Perhaps that will provide Wagner the extra incentive he needs to show us my former apprentice's precious little Sword. It irks me, you know, that somehow she managed to bind ultimate control of this realm to the blade."

"Yeah, she was a right devious bitch, that one." T'ym said, "Or so I've heard."

Belasco continued to stare intently. "Oh, and T'ym…" With a negligent flip of his hand, bright orange energy arced over to encapsulate the monstrous form. "… Do try not to fail me again."

* * *

Kurt felt the shadow first - blessed relief from the scorching rays of the eldritch sun - but realized the danger an instant later, The response was immediate - grabbing his teammate and porting a hundred meters away, and even then barely escaping the buffeting wings of the dragon-like creature. It had sent an explosion of sand upon impact, resulting in a silicone tidal wave that pummeled and blinded them. The beast turned impossibly fast, its immense head tracking their movements and unleashing a white-hot blast of fire in their direction.

Nightcrawler teleported again, bringing Colossus with him. He marked that he was being allowed to use his mutant ability again; whether this was interference by Illyana or just the whims of Belasco wasn't clear. If the latter, it lent further credence to his theory that the Demon Lord was testing them, toying with them even as he tried to ascertain some obscure and arcane information he would use against them when they finally confronted one another. The German mutant looked at the dune where they'd been a split second before - most of it had been vaporized, leaving the remainder fused to glass. He questioned whether even the armored form of his friend could withstand such a blast. Once again, the Soul Sword burned within his chest... what better device to slay the dragon than a magic blade?

Before he could act on that impulse, he was interrupted by a shout. "Can you get me on top of that thing?" came Peter's voice over the Wyrm's near subharmonic growl, a sound that made their innards vibrate unpleasantly. In another burst of sulfur and brimstone, the pair was again on the opposite side of the dragon's inferno. They were safe, for a very brief moment, but he knew he couldn't keep it up forever; already, he was feeling the strain of teleporting both himself and a quarter ton of organic steel. Again, in defiance of all he knew of physics and biology, the reptilian head swung at them with such speed that he did not dare pause to answer his friend, but could only initiate another, panicked 'port. Mid-transport, that sixth sense that normally prevented him from materializing inside a solid object kicked in, and with a supreme effort pulled a double bamf, aiming for the broad back of the dragon.

He teetered for a moment and then, succumbing to the pain and exhaustion, felt himself sliding off the slippery scales. A gleaming hand reached down and grabbed his hand, "_Nyet!_ You shall not fall on my watch!" Colossus grabbed a handful of one of the ridge like plates that snaked down the creature's back, and held Nightcrawler with his free arm. The Great Wyrm spun its head this way and that, snapping at them, but couldn't quite reach them.

"I have never thought I would ever feel so much like a flea," the Russian quipped, hoping the uncharacteristic joke might spur his comrade to consciousness.

Kurt, for his part, groaned, from the pain and weariness as much as his friend's poor attempt at humor. "Please… don't talk about fleas. You have no idea…"

"Can you stand, _tovarisch_?"

"I can try. But I don't think we'll be able to stay here much longer… this thing's smarter than it looks. I'm sure it'll try to roll over, or take to the air, or something to get us off."

His steely face tightening to grimace of resolve, he spoke, "I will distract the monster. Seek out a weak spot, and I shall do the same." With that, he dove off the back towards the ground.

The Wyrm responded instantly, the neck craning around and lashing out at the falling X-man, its maw gaping wide. The armored figure disappeared in a flash of teeth.

"Peter!"

* * *

Amanda was in exceedingly poor condition, her usually slender frame now bordering on the skeletal. Her voice was a mere whisper as she tried to talk to Dani. "It's my fault, all my fault. And now your lives are all in danger."

"I'm sorry, Amanda, I just don't understand why. Belasco is as bad as they come - Illyana was terrified of him. It could've happened to anyone..."

"I," the sorceress gasped, "I opened the door for him. As good as. I took the sword - out of Limbo - I hid it. I thought I was strong enough without it. I was wrong, so wrong..."

Dani's eyes narrowed. "Where - never mind, it doesn't matter now, and someone may be listening. We have to get out of here." She'd been working on the manacles around Amanda's wrists as they talked, and was almost surprised when she managed to open one. She could almost make out the shocked expression on the blonde's face in the dim light, and she started in on the other wrist. "So, what do you know? What can you tell me of their plans? How exactly did they get you?"

The rust in her voice was fading a bit, but she was still hoarse. "I had just finished an audience with Nightmare - we were talking about the mutual defense of the splinter realms - when I returned to my castle, I was faced with a_doppelgänger_. I reached for my magic, and it slipped from my hands. He was behind me - he hit me, knocking me across the room. I blacked out, found myself here. He only came here a couple times, once to gloat, of course, and once more, to cast a spell, allowing my double to read my thoughts."

The woman's whole body shuddered, and Danielle was afraid the thin frame would shatter, "It was awful; it felt like newts crawling around my brain. But the connection wasn't entirely one-way; I could catch glimpses of what she was doing from time to time. She didn't lie, not all the time... but I had to watch her set the trap up, meant to bring Kitty, and Peter, and Kurt here. She was supposed to bring Ororo as well - she was - punished for that."

With a click, the other manacle had given way to her skilled fingers. "There you go, you're free." The freed woman gratefully began to rub her wrists, trying to get the circulation going. "I have a question - Illyana - is she alive?"

Amanda answered, "I don't know. I'm sorry, I don't." She coughed, "If she'd been here, I hope I would have known." Pausing to catch her breath, she managed a wan smile. "She could've had the place; I sure didn't want it. Now I have a question - how were you able to free me - those weren't normal chains…"

"Magic," replied Dani, offhandedly, "Really. I'm still a Valkyrie. M-Day couldn't change that. And that nature gives me a certain inclination into that area, and I've studied with Talisman to try to expand on that."

Amanda had somehow gone even paler, and her mouth was opening and closing, as if she was unable to form a coherent thought. She finally stammered, "You… you did magic? Here, in the castle? In his seat of power?" Panicked eyes shot towards the cell door. "Didn't you realize he'd have tracking spells here, that he'll know exactly what we're up to? Quick! Chain me back up! Put the gag back on!" She drew a ragged breath before continuing, "Hurry! Before they come!" With that, the last of her strength spent, she passed out.

Dani groped around for the gag, spurred to action by Amanda's sense of urgency.

_**Don't worry, I got your backs.**_

'I know that voi– Illyana, it is you!"

_**Heya, chief! How's tricks?**_

"Girl, it's good to hear your voice… disembodied though it may be. But what were you saying about having our backs?"

_**I'm running interference from ol' Red and Angry right now. In my current state, I have a great deal of influence over Limbo.**_

Danielle Moonstar looked puzzled. Her delight at this reunion was apparent, but her long lost friend and teammate's cryptic words raised her curiosity. "And what state is that?"

_**Tut, tut! You're all the same… always asking questions instead of taking care of the immediate concern. All will be revealed in time.**_

"It's just not like you to keep anything secret for long, especially when you had dirt to dish…"

_**What can I say, maybe I grew up? Besides, that was gossip; this is important. Now I would totally love to have a pajama party and do makeovers and chat the night away, but right now, you have to help Amanda… I know she looks bad, but she's really worse than that. Belasco's been keeping her alive only enough to keep her memories available to that cross-time clone he had. That plan failed, and I don't know if he will have any need for her any longer.**_

"What can I do?"

_**Did Talisman teach you any food or water conjuring spells?**_

She shook her head. Elizabeth Twoyoungman specialized in the negation of magic, and taught her to counteract certain spells, like the ones on Amanda's manacles. She'd learned some others to improve her stealth, or her fighting, and some minor first aid enchantments. Actual conjuration had remained elusive during her apprenticeship.

_**Damn. All right, here's what we're going to do. I need you to open your mind to me. **_

"Are you going to possess me?"

**_I can't answer that, Dani, I'm sorry I need you to not ask questions like that - I'm bending enough of the rules as it is. Now… focus on clouds… remember the first time you took Brightwind up in the sky…_**

The memory of her winged house arose in her mind, unbidden but welcome. She could almost feel the cold mist as they would break through a bank of cumulus, and how the sun felt so impossibly bright above. Even as she reminisced, she felt a tug, lower in her mind. She heard her mouth speak, felt her hands move. She felt a presence there, and she reached out for it. Too late, she thought that this is exactly the sort of trick Belasco would pull, to dupe her into exposing herself, but as she touched the sentience, she knew it was no trick. It was Illyana. And also, that -

_**Naughty girl! Always were too headstrong for your own good.**_

"Is there anything I can do? To help?"

_**Keep it to yourself. Please. I really need you to keep what you just learned secret, from everyone. This has to play out for there to be any resolution. If things go well, then I can be at peace.**_

"But-"

**_Hush! I have to go now… I do miss you guys, and I hope I'll get a chance to talk with you again. But now, you need to feed Amanda. Sorry about the ghastly presentation… 'Bye now!_**

Dani blinked, and the presence was gone. She looked down – on the floor was a small pitcher and plate of food, both with a horned skull and inverted pentagram motif. She smiled, recalling how her friend used to grouse about the way this dimension would twist the most innocent of spells, and poured a glass for Amanda.

* * *

The sensation of floating - the only real sensation Rachel had, in fact - was reminiscent of the weightlessness of space. There was nothing to see but an unending blackness that she could not feel. There was no sound except that of her voice, not even the echo of her angry screams of frustration from earlier. And the air, for she was breathing fine, had no noticeable taste or odor.

Most importantly, there was still nothing her enhanced abilities could detect - no thoughts as far as her mind could reach, nothing substantial that her mind could grasp. Not even, it seemed, the molecules of air that were keeping her alive. She'd tried to swim through this strange shadowy atmosphere, to propel herself in some manner, if only to make it recognize her existence. But there was no resistance to push back against; she remained exactly where she was.

Fighting her legendary Grey temper, she assumed the lotus position and began to meditate. She forced her breathing to slow and took stock of what she knew, and what she could surmise. She made some assumptions - she was alive, she was still in Limbo and had been captured by Belasco or his minions. Given that, he must have some purpose for not killing her straight off. She dismissed the involuntary shudder of apprehension at that idea as nonproductive. His ability to control her must be limited - why else such an elaborate prison? If he could just neutralize her powers, she was fairly certain he would have.

It was a pity that she hadn't more time to read the evil Kurt's mind; for as unsavory as that had been, it might have given her a clue as to what she might expect.

It did concern here that all her assumptions were based on what might be remotely considered rational or reasonable, and those were labels that simply could not be applied to Belasco.

Doug Ramsey limped gingerly into the throne room, clad in a simple black monk's habit. Each step brought excruciating pain, with the coarse fabric of his garb rubbing against the open wounds across his back from the flogging he'd received earlier. He welcomed the sensation, focusing on it. "How fares it, m'lord? Does your plan continue apace?"

Belasco was holding up an onyx sphere, and barely spared his apprentice a glance. "All proceeds as I have designed, save for the absence of the windrider. I so wanted the pleasure of her company, and now I must make do with one of the others. It means we must keep the Starchilde alive until events have reached their fruition."

"Your trap is quite ingenious, m'lord," Doug said, knowing that the proper spirit of obeisance was necessary after his earlier failure. "To force the Phoenix inside Kitty's phasing ability was a most sublime enchantment, preventing the one from accessing a potentially troublesome power while creating an environment that completely befuddles the other..."

Belasco smiled malevolently, "Seek not to abate my disappointment by reminiscing of your past successes. My delight that your research provided the basis for the spell pales in comparison to my anger at more recent failures." He twisted the orb in his hand, his arcane senses peering penetrating its illusory nature at the reality, if such word could be applied to anything in the realm. In the very middle of a near infinite pocket of Limbospace that curved around itself, Rachel Grey shone like a supernova. The application of Shadowcat's intangibility rendered this prison immune to her telekinesis, and the vast, empty distances left no minds for her telepathy to read. It was, indeed, a most ingenious trap, if he did say so himself. "Now, to see to other guests. It's just about time to move all the pieces into position, for the final gambit, and success, at last."

"Yes, Master," Doug said, bowing low.

* * *

"I hate finding a parking place in London," Logan snarled. "Yer Excalibur crew have any place to stash the X-Jet while we're doin' this?"

Pete Wisdom had put on a headset, "I'll take care of it." He fiddled with the communication controls, and cleared his throat, speaking in a more professional tone, "Heathrow, I quote extraordinary ref , ahem, 'Cross Time Caper'. Please respond by the book." He disengaged the transmission for a moment. "Bloody Alistaire Stuart and his bloody file covers."

The radio buzzed with the reply, "Reference booked and registered. Standby for incoming communication link."

"Incoming link? That's not by the book – give me my bleeding runway and -"

"Wisdom, what the hell do you think you're doing? You've been offline for hours!"

"And a lovely evening to you, Stuart. Can't a bloke take a little time off?" The cheerful tone was forced, and guaranteed to irritate his MI-13 director. "Besides, I've been remanded over to Excalibur for the time being, I'm not running your little freakshow anymore."

"Time off, my arse!" challenged Alistaire Stuart in an uncharacteristic fit of anger. "You are out with that Wolverine character trying to bollocks up everything!"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you swear like a little girl, Stuart?" Pete said, "Besides, I'm afraid your signal just broke up." He reached over and shut off the radio. He turned to Logan, "Change of plans… take us to the Empress Docks, we'll VTOL down on the roof of Excalibur's headquarters and make our way –"

"You will do no such thing, Wisdom," crackled the voice of the Director of MI-13. The two occupants of the X-Jet looked at each other, startled, and Pete again stabbed at the comm station's off switch. Dr. Stuart continued, "You will land at Heathrow and you and Mr. Logan will surrender yourselves to the police where you will be escorted to a nice, secure location where you will await the resolution of the events in Otherplace. If things go badly, you will recovene your MI-13 strike team to defend Britain again incoming demon invasion, and Wolverine will return to New York to meet up with his team. Well, one of them, anyway."

"Yeah? Bugger that, you stuffed suit," the mutant spy sneered. He turned to Wolverine, "Why won't this sodding thing turn off?"

"Beats the crap outta me…"

"Because Cyclops gave me the override code. Because you both are about as predictable as the damn sunrise. More predictable, 'cause if you two screw the pooch on this one, there may not BE a bloody sunri-"

**SNIKT!**

Two-thirds of the console slid neatly off its base to crash resoundingly on the floor of the jet.

"Manual shutdown," explained Logan. "Other ideas?"

Pete paused a moment to think. "Hyde Park," he said finally, then asked, "How's the security system on this thing?"

"Touch sensitive electro-shock web," the Canadian replied, as he engaged the landing process.

"Should be all right then… but if you make any cracks about remembering where we parked, I put a hotknife through your eyeball and see if you can heal from a lobotomy."

The X-Jet set down near a large grass expanse, and the two mutants dropped out of the hatch, taking off towards the streets of London.

* * *

A/N- It's been a while, a long while. Sorry about the delay, been caught up in a writing contest over at I just wanted to give a special thanks to Amokitty, Madripoor Rose and MelodyRider for their help while I've been in progress.

* * *


	9. From the Mouth of Dragons

Colossus dimly heard his friend shout after him as he dove off, and wished he'd had time to explain his plan. Well, to be honest, "plan" was a bit of a stretch; he'd suddenly had a gut feeling that he could accomplish more off the beast than on, and went with it. Even as the massive head had moved so quickly to intercept him, and those stalactite-sized teeth flashed and closed down on him, he still felt he'd made the right decision. While he had the vague idea about attacking the creature's softer underbelly when he'd leaped, he saw an opportunity here as well, provided that he had the strength - or his armor the durability - to withstand it trying to bite him in half.

As it was, he was able to twist his body as the dragon bit down, causing the incisors to scrape down his back, leaving a significant gouge. He winced in pain, and grabbed hold of the fang, huddling between two teeth twice as tall as him. He paused to orient himself to these circumstances, and was lifted bodily as the monstrous tongue sought to dislodge him from his hiding place. His grip held as he punctured handholds through the enamel of the tooth, and the tongue flickered back at him. He dodged this time, getting to the other side as it dug in the gap he'd occupied a moment before.

He looked towards the throat - there was no of knowing if he could survive the digestive system of something that could incinerate matter with its breath, but the risk of staying in the mouth was as great, if not much worse. With a grace and agility that belied his seven and a half foot metal frame, he did a dive roll onto the serpentine tongue, using it as a springboard to launch himself down its esophagus.

"Down the hatch," he muttered to himself, glad that Nightcrawler would not have to hear, and thus feel compelled to comment on, his bad joke.

* * *

Kurt watched him disappear helplessly, having no strength left to teleport. He clung to the neck spine, his chest heaving from his earlier exertion. He watched the dragon bite down on Peter's armored form, and then stop. It cocked its head slightly to the left and began to open and close its mouth, the tongue slithering in and out rapidly.

He scrambled his way up the sinuous neck, drawing his two blades as he went. His acrobat's body gave him astounding recuperative prowess, and he was going to push it to the limit if there were any chance to save his Russian compatriot. "Seek out a weak spot," Colossus had said. And given that those scales were quite impervious to his swords, he could think of only one object they might be able to damage. Make that two.

The dragon was making a slightly strangled growl, as if it had something – or someone – in its throat. Kurt took this as a good sign – perhaps that insane leap hadn't been as suicidal as he'd thought. Good thing, too, for if Peter was going to kill himself again… well, he didn't have time to explore those feelings right now. With a leap into a front somersault, he reached the crown of the dragon, right next to the left side horn.

The dragon stood still for a moment, its nostrils flaring as it seemed like it was trying to track him by scent. He marveled that such a massive beast might be able to be able to pick out his own individual odor; it must be like Wolverine smelling a single ant.

He slipped down between the eyebrow ridges, skidding a bit along the snout. His legs bunched, muscles tensing for that moment.

Two huge orbs, easily ten feet in diameter, focused in on Nightcrawler, and with that, he sprang forward, stabbing forward with both blades. He felt them sink into the cornea and lens, and even as the creature began its scream of anger and pain, he initiated his mutation, appearing in front of the other eye. Again he lunged, and again his swords pushed in with grim determination to blind the monster.

Kurt did a long, graceful back flip down towards the creature's nostrils and then teleported, releasing his normal cloud of sulfur and brimstone that he hoped would confuse the dragon's sense of smell. He reappeared between those massive wings and hid along the dorsal spines. While his idea had worked up to a point, but there was only so much damage a three-foot long sword could do to such a humongous eyeball. Even now, the thing was growling and hissing, its head flopping back and forth and its multiple eyelids blinking rapidly. He couldn't even be sure just how much he'd managed to impair its sight. What was more, it could still hear and smell, and it still had that devastating fire. If Peter were still alive inside it, Kurt thought, even his osmium-analog armor most likely could not survive such an attack, unless he could get below whatever gland or organ created those fiery bursts.

He took a moment to clean his blades of the ichor from his attack. Again, the temptation to draw the Soulsword rose in him - it was anathema to all things magickal, wouldn't it be their one weapon that might be able to damage this thing? His right hand rose involuntarily to his chest, his fingers reaching towards his heart.

He froze, realization dawning on his face - could that be Belasco's game? Could he really be after Illyana's mystical blade? During their first sojourn to Limbo, the sword hadn't existed at all; it had allegedly been created later from the very soul energy of Peter's sister. But the evil sorceror Gravemoss, who sought it when it had fallen into Kitty Pryde's possession, and his nemesis Shrill – they had scoffed at that, saying that it was a legendary weapon. And once, when visiting Amanda when she was still ruling here, she had mentioned how she'd seen a vision of the Soulsword when she was very young, and had reached for it, only to have it snatched away. She found it ironic that she later came to possess both it, and the realm it came to exemplify.

These were thoughts to be pursued later – right now, he had a dragon to slay. And, he decided, it would have to be without the enchanted sword inside him.

* * *

Amanda was rudely stirred back to consciousness as her jaw was being pried open and water - real, clear, wonderful water - poured down her throat. Her eyes, having long ago become accustomed to the darkness of her cell, made out Dani's outline. A million questions and concerns floated through her brain, but when she tried to give them voice, she descended into another coughing fit.

When she regained some composure, she said simply, "Thank you."

"You looked a little parched. I have bread as well, and some dried vegetables."

"Where-?"

Dani replied, "I really can't say. I promised not too. Now take your hands out of those shackles - they're still neutralized. I don't plan on hand-feeding you as well."

"But," objected Amanda weakly, even as she complied, "How do you know -? Belasco or his agents could have - you just can't trust - this is Limbo..." She struggled with pulling coherence from the jumbled images in her mind.

"Amanda, we don't trust one another, and for good reason. My team has already been deceived by your evil twin, and the hell you've been put through isn't going to make you very likely to accept a sudden turn of good fortune with anything but suspicion. But you keep drinking this water because you don't have a choice - the alternative is death." The young woman continued, "I've got the same issue - there's things I need to take on faith - up to a point, that is - because otherwise I would just have to lie down and wait to rot. And right now, our distrust is a good thing - this is Limbo, and trusting blindly will get us killed or worse very quickly. But if I know the rest of the team, if they're still free, then things are going to come to a head very soon..."

"What-," Amanda said, as she greedily grabbed another piece of soft, dark bread and shoved it in her mouth. Between gulps, she paused and said, "I know. The trust thing. It's better you don't tell me, for now."

"Yes. But once things are happening, it serves Belasco's design that we don't trust one another. We're going to have to get over this by then, or we will fail. And that can't be an option, not with so much at stake."

"It's hard," the gypsy sorceress said.

"Tell me about it," Dani responded, a weariness to her voice, "I've had enough enemies hiding behind the faces of my friends. And I'm sick of being used. But it doesn't change what has to be done. Are you with me?"

"Yes. By all that I hold holy, when the time comes, I will stand with you, or die in the attempt." The blonde held out her hand.

Danielle Moonstar, who was closer to the edge of despair than she'd ever dare admit, grasped the offered arm as a lifeline, "And, by my ancestors and the Great Spirit, I promise I will be by your side.""

Amanda laughed softly, and at Dani's quizzical look, explained, "You don't think it's funny - that we just agreed that we don't trust one another right now, but will in the future?"

The Cheyenne warrior looked at her, mouth agape, and then, helplessly, joined in the laughter.

* * *

Peter had gotten himself caught in the dragon's epiglottis, causing the beast to choke momentarily, but then the spongy flap had opened and he'd continued his descent. He might have preferred heading towards the lungs with it's hurricane force winds than the uncertainty of whatever stomach acids he was headed for, but his most pressing concern was getting below whatever biochemical process created that blistering fire. He wished he'd paid more attention when Kitty had been blithering about one of her fantasy novels that she read, where she talked about how the author had spent quite a bit of time on illustrating how a dragon might actually work in real life. But he hadn't, being more interested in her presence and the comforting sound of her voice than he was in the minutiae of the story. He grinned in spite of himself, making a silent promise that he'd be more attentive in the future. You never knew when such things might come in handy, especially in their line of work.

As he'd fallen down the throat, he'd been buffeted back and forth as the monster moved in response to some external stimuli, most likely his friend and teammate. What should have been a trip of a few seconds was lengthened significantly, as the metallic X-man had been tossed every which way by the frantic motion.

He was heading right for a large valve- the esophageal sphincter, he remembered from his anatomy classes at Xavier's . Two others flanked it - if he had to guess that somehow they were connected to its pyrogenesis, which might be caused by the expulsion of multiple gasses that would burst into that unholy flame in contact with open air.

Just a little farther, and he would be safe. From one threat, anyway.

- - -

The Great Wyrm was still bleating in pain, and had made a couple attempts at biting Nightcrawler off his perch amongst those vertical ridges, causing the blue-furred hero to hunker down and reflect on Peter's earlier allusion to fleas. He began to see why dogs had so much difficulty with such pests. He was at a bit of a loss on how to proceed - he didn't think it would try to blast him where he was, as it would then potentially endanger itself, but he was still struggling to come up with any sort of plan that might damage the beast and free Peter. What was more, the box holding the dimensional bomb was hooked to his pack rather precariously. Were he to lose it - or if were it to be set off prematurely - all would have been for naught, and their lives would become a nightmare situation of fighting demons every moment of every day until they finally succumbed to the overwhelming numbers. Or, he thought morosely, until they were corrupted by the overpowering evil that permeated this dimension.

His face grew bleak. Death first, he promised himself. He would sooner fall on his blade, mortal sin though it be, than become that perversion of himself. He wondered how the Savior would treat such a choice - for even as there was prohibition against suicide, did it not also say in the book of Mark that if it was your eye that offended you, then to pluck it out? What if it were your soul - or your very being - that became the instrument of evil?

There was a great disturbance along the dragon's body as the humongous wings spread impossibly wide, and the mighty sinews along its back began to bunch and flex. It started to flap, and although the very idea of it was an offense against reason and aerodynamics, the monster took to the air. Kurt felt his fingers slip, and in desperation reached for another handhold, grasping at the iridescent scales that covered its entire body. Almost immediately, he had to pull his hand back with a yelp of pain, red streaks already forming in the creases of the fingers of his right hand. His grip lost, he began to fall, and only a panicked teleport back up to the beast saved him, as he somehow matched his destination to the rapidly rising target. His undamaged left hand stabbed out to grab the more rounded back ridge and he held on with his fingertips.

He reached up with his left foot to reinforce his grip, and, wincing against the pain, he reached into his pack to grasped a nanofiber cord. He looped the cord around the sail-like ridge, knotting it and then locking his arm inside. The dragon seemed to have forgotten about him for the time being, so he rummaged about for his medkit to dress the wounds on his hand.

Looking up, he saw that they were approaching a mountain range, and atop the highest peak, the ominous shape of Belasco's citadel. Good fortune, it would appear, but Nightcrawler instinctively mistrusted such a turn in his favor. And there still Colossus to worry about, if he was even alive inside the creature.

It was coming in for a landing, but where, he couldn't say. It was nearly as large as the castle. He looked around for a safe landing zone for himself. One more 'port, he promised himself, and then he could rest.

* * *

Marvel Girl floated in that numbing void for a seeming enternity. The sense of timelessness was oppressive, recalling but at the same time contrasting with that period she had spent lost in the temporal stream. She'd survived that, just as she would survive this. She reflected at how much she'd missed in the time it did take her to return, and feared that she might not get back in time to help. What good would it be to return to yet another world where everyone she cared about were dead or twisted? She'd drawn parallels in her mind between what the perverted facsimile of Kurt had undergone at the hands of Belasco to the torment and forced indoctrination she'd suffered under Ahab. She'd broken free, eventually. But how much worse - how much more complete the transformation to evil - could be accomplished through this black magic?

She bit her lip. She wouldn't let him get her like that. And she would get out.

She felt the rage building in her, and again silently cursed the surrounding grayness that offered nothing on which to vent. Powerless, alone, with no outlet to her anger, she felt her eyes grow heavy with tears.

No, she thought, fiercely. I will not succumb to this! She reached again to her power - her telekinesis and telepathy - and tried desperately to use them. They were still there, she could feel the power inside. But something was preventing her from using it to escape her prison. She reached up and raked her red hair with her fingernails, forcing it back to a semblance of order, when it dawned on her that it had moved on its own - there was no wind here, no gravity. No sense of movement whatsoever. And yet strands of her hair had gone all askew, just as they did when she went all Phoenix-y. She tried a tentative psychic tug, concentrating on her bangs, and they raised reluctantly. She could "feel" them, but only barely, as if her psychokinetic arm had fallen asleep.

Sneaky, she thought, very sneaky. Somehow the environment was immune to her psionics - the drab nothingness around her was exactly that - nothing. But she could still affect herself, although even that was limited. It reminded her of the morning she'd found Kitty phased part way through the floor and tried to lift her. There was the same, tenuous grip to everything. Bearing down to the molecular level, she realized that the very atoms of this realm were out of synch.

As she became more certain of the nature of her prison, she began to concentrate on what might then get her out of it.

_**Rachel!**_

She spun her head around. She wasn't alone.

_**Are you there?**_

"Who's there? I can barely hear you!"

_**There you are! I thought I'd never find you in this place.**_

"Illyana! You are alive!" A twinge of jealousy shot through her. She was glad that their trip hadn't been in vain, but Illyana – alive – could only mean that she'd have an even smaller part in Kitty's life. She chided herself for the stupidity of the thought.

Gee, Ray, it's good to see you too. Listen, I don't have much time – you're only vaguely in my Limbo right now, so this is taking a lot out of me.

Rachel listened carefully as the disembodied voice explained her plan. "Got it," she nodded. "Listen, Illyana, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have these negative feelings about you, or your brother. It's just…"

Trust me, I know what it's like, to feel you don't have anyone to lean on. And believe me when I say I won't be stealing Kitty away from you. She loves you, Rachel. Maybe not the same way she loves that big goof I call a brother, but she loves you all the same. I won't be leaving this place, so I need you to get out and take care of her for me, and give her the kick in the ass when she needs it.

The words touched her, as did the Russian girl's courage and heart. "I will, Illyana. And, thank you."

Don't thank me yet. Wait 'til we're all free… one way or another.

* * *

Peter was working on the valve to the stomach when suddenly the world went topsy-turvy and he was thrown forward. He scrambled to his feet, maintaining a low crouch to preserve his balance. They were airborne, he noted, and he wondered why. He worried about Kurt - had the creature killed him? The monster had not eaten him, that was certain, as he would have seen... something... come down the esophagus. And it hadn't used its fire on him - he definitely would have noticed that. Or, more accurately, that he was still around was a solid indication that there'd been nothing to notice, if only for a microsecond. But the creature could have speared his friend with a claw, or whipped him with its tail, or stepped on him with Godzilla-sized feet - all would have been fatal.

The dragon seemed to be leveling off, so he resumed his attempts at opening the valve and escaping into the belly of the beast, as it were. His struggle to accomplish this simple feat bothered him; as strong as he was, and with his armored form's generally disruptive impact on magic, he should have had little trouble opening a hole large enough to slip through. He hadn't used the full measure of his strength yet, for fear that such an assault would trigger some sort of reflex, perhaps involving that infernal, incinerating breath. Instead, he had tried subtle but persistent pressure, thinking he might instead initiate a normal peristalic response.

He lost his balance again as the creature began its descent, but managed to steady himself. He wondered if it was folly to attempt to navigate the creature's digestive system. Even if he managed to burst its stomach or other organ, it might take far too long to kill the thing. He looked up the esophagus, analyzing his chances at climbing all the way up, and perhaps ascending through the sinus cavities to the brain.

- - -

Kurt looked along the spires of the citadel for a place to escape his current predicament. They were nearly down, and it looked like it was just going to land on the nearest peak to Belasco's mountaintop residence. He was running out of time, he'd rested as much as he'd dared. With the soft bamf of imploding air, he vanished from his perch.

He reappeared on a parapet nearly a half-mile away and collapsed immediately to his hands and knees.

The dragon reacted immediately, its giant head thrashing about at the sound of that telltale bamfing sound, trying to zone in on where the person who had wounded it might have gone. It sniffed at the air, and cocked its head for any clue of his whereabouts. Finally, it roared in frustration.

From his vantage point, Kurt had an excellent view of the Wyrm's anguish at his escape. He watched, relieved and somewhat amused at its antics, until its chest began to swell. His laughter died on his lips, to be replaced by an expression of shock and horror as the beast unleashed its most furious blast yet, high into the sky, a blinding conflagration that seemed to dwarf the sun in its immensity.

If Peter was inside that…

- - -

Peter pushed and tugged, prodded and levered. The dragon's screams had resounded throughout its body, and he took it as a good sign that his comrade was still alive, and had possibly escaped. He felt the monstrous lungs swell around him, and redoubled his efforts. He had one last chance at this, and used his full strength, fueled even more by the osmium-steel equivalent of adrenaline.

Finally, he forced a small opening – just a couple feet wide. He dove through.

And the world turned white.

- - -

Kurt's shock was short-lived, and he reacted at the dragon's flame with a mixture of fury and determination. If Peter had been in the path - no time to think of that now, he had to move, in case his friend was still alive in there. His eyes fell on a tall spire, perhaps fifty feet high, twenty feet in diameter. He didn't even consider the consequences to his already over-taxed body, 'porting over to the spire and with inhuman effort, moving it through that parallel dimension his power allowed him access to, across the distance and materializing it inside the creature at the base of its skull, right by the spine. The rock of the spire merged with the bone and nerves, destroying both.

With the last ounce of endurance, he teleported back to the Citadel, watching the beast shudder and convulse. Its momentum carried it towards the castle, and it crashed heavily, smashing through the walls and leaving huge piles of debris and nearly destroying an entire wing in its wake.

"Did it..." he gasped, his heart pounding fit to burst and his lungs straining to pull in air. Bemused, he watched black dots swirl before his yellow eyes, growing larger and larger and spinning faster and faster even as his heart began to skip wildly, arrythmically. His chest ached, and he began to cough painfully. Suddenly nerveless fingers moved to his mouth, and came back spotted with blood. It barely registered on him what was happening when it was over, and he collapsed, unmoving.

* * *

"An interesting strategem by the goblin," smiled Belasco over his crystal, surveying the scene. "One, I dare say, might even have been effective against me, had I been caught unawares."

"I know I wouldn't wanna get fused with a ton'a rock," replied T'ym. "It'd jus' ruin my girlish figger." He barked out a laugh.

"Fear not, my churlish thrall. I know his ways now, and can thwart them easily. Come, we have much preparation to do. Boy!" the sorcerer shouted, "Attend me!"

Doug stepped forward quickly, his bow low. "Yes, m'lord?"

He waved his hand over the image in the crystal. The picture wavered, and the Wyrm's corpse vanished, as did the apparent damage it had done to the citadel, leaving only thr prostrate body of Nightcrawler splayed on the ground. "Go outside and fetch Wagner. Place him in the Stasis of Szoglosch, but otherwise keep him undisturbed."

"And the Russian?" Doug asked, his eyes expressionless.

With a mocking laugh, his Master answered, "The fate of Rasputin is my concern, and mine alone."

Belasco turned towards an ornate marble table, where a second sphere had appeared next to the one that held Marvel Girl, a translucent opal that contrasted with the obsidian of the first globe. He scooped it up with his left hand and held it aloft, gazing inside. It pulsed softly, the white light reflecting strangely off his reddish skin. The fingers of his free hand danced, tracing an intricate design in the air around the sphere. Dark stains appeared along its surface, looking somewhat like an encroaching disease permeating and corrupting it.

* * *

The hunger pangs were getting to her. Kitty knew it was far too soon for her stomach to clench like that, that she'd gone longer without eating before, but she couldn't deny that her body was rebelling against her. It could be another magical attack, a spell that attacked her will, creating an illusion of weakness and starvation, in the hopes of driving her to the dish of half-rotten, unrecognizable slop by the cell door. Or to capitulating to their demands. How long, she thought. How long until the appeal of food became so strong that it wouldn't seem so bad to offer a little deference to Belasco and Doug? Until she would convince herself that she was just being polite, calling them "Lord" - or, worse, "Master"?

She sank down to the rough stone floor, assuming the lotus position. She couldn't give in, even if she starved to death. A memory flickered, of a nightmare long ago, of her wasting away no matter how much she ate. It struck her; this used to be one of her biggest fears. Doug - it had to be Doug doing this to her.

She'd confessed the nightmare to him during one of their late night hacking sessions, as they'd wolfed down junk food and soda until they felt sick to their stomachs. And he'd told Belasco about it, or had used it against her himself.

She wasn't sure which was worse.

Again she tried to meditate, pushing the hunger and the cold from her mind by sheer force of will. Other thoughts, however, were far more stubborn. As offended as she was by the idea that Doug would use her deepest secrets as a means of corrupting her, part of her felt… flattered? Was that it? Something about how well he still seemed to know her, how much he really understood her, it touched a chord with her. And reminded her that, as much as she loved Piotr, there were ways that she and Doug clicked that she and her fiancé, with their disparate backgrounds and talents never could. Again she thought that in another time and place, maybe she'd be thinking about becoming Katherine Pryde-Ramsey.

She winced – what was this place doing to her? She loved Peter, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, was risking that very life for him and his sister. And this Doug was evil, a willing servant to one of their deadliest enemies.

Breathing in and out, she tried to make the images go away.

"Oh Peter," she whispered, "Where are you?"

* * *

Piotr was walking through the tall Siberian grass, feeling the sun on his face. It had been a good day in the fields, but he wanted to get back to wash up before they arrived. He called out to his young bride as he entered their simple wooden cabin. "Ekaterina, I am home."

A voice called out, "I'm in the kitchen, dear, getting dinner ready. Michael's sleeping in the bedroom, so try to be quiet when you change."

He smiled, inhaling deeply of the smell of beets for the borscht. "_Da_, I will." He moved carefully, making sure he did not disturb the adorable infant in the whitewashed crib he'd built. He brushed two fingers against his lips, and then touched them lightly on his son's brow, before making his way into the washroom. Peter unbuttoned his soiled work shirt and tossed it into a hamper, then gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble there, and decided it was best if he shaved; Mama would surely comment if he didn't. He scrubbed his face, then lathered up. Quick, deft strokes with a straight razor easily disposed of his nascent beard, revealing smooth skin beneath, slightly paler than the rest of his face.

He gazed out the small window, beyond the brightly colored curtains with Chicago Cubs logos on them, at the sun, which cast a warm glow over their land. If there could be a more idyllic scene, he could scarcely imagine what it would be.

His face broke out into a broad smile as the old pickup came down the dirt road leading up to their farmstead. Papa was behind the wheel, Mama next to him. And, in the back seat, little Illyana was hopping up and down excitedly.

"If I believed in heaven…" he whispered to himself, contently.

"Where do you think we are, beloved?" came Katya's voice, from behind. "Why else would your parents be here, and your sister?"

"I… died?" he asked. The idea did not bother him. There was a wrench – he'd failed his friends, his mission. But he'd done what he could, and apparently, even without belief, he'd earned some sort of award.

"You died in the dragon's belly, my love. I was killed by Belasco, as soon as we arrived in his throne room." She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. "But we're together, now and forever."

"I would have it no other way," he murmured into her hair as he kissed the top of her head, returning her embrace.

She smiled up at him, then gave him a quick swat on his posterior. "Now hurry up – Mikhail will be here soon, and we haven't seen him in forever."

"Yes, dear," he grinned at her, returning a light pop on her own rear. Something tickled his memory about his brother, but it didn't seem important. He grabbed a shirt off a hanger and pulled it over his sleeveless undershirt. He glanced out again, and completely failed to notice the obsidian streaks that were melting across the sky.

* * *

Doug walked quickly up the spiraling steps leading to the parapet where Nightcrawler lay dying, two broad-backed kobolds trailing behind him. In his former life, he'd admired Kurt Wagner for his courage, his humor, and his sense of style, but he felt nothing about the fate that lay ahead for the X-man. That may have had something to do with the despicable creature that bore Nightcrawler's face that he'd lived with for several years. But he knew if he allowed this version to die, the earlier chastisement would seem like nothing but a mild reprimand, and that possibly he himself would take Wagner's place in the Rite. Or worse, Belasco would use Kitty as a substitute.

He silently cursed himself for betraying his feelings for the lovely Miss Pryde. Sure, he'd moved beyond that, with Betsy, with Rahne. But he'd always felt a connection to the bright and beautiful girl from Deerfield - he'd never fit with anyone so well as with her. Her comparison to them as Itzhak Perlman and a Stradivarius was well made - they were the team supreme long before he'd met the alien shapeshifter, Warlock. He wondered if they could work so well again, or if the process that blackened his soul - and soon hers as well - would rob them of the magic they'd made together, like that time they'd hacked into Shaw Industries and ended up inside the Department of Defense mainframe.

The irony that he now wielded real magic - that he could be considered a Warlock, when there had always been that fear that his repeated merging with his friend would infect him with that virus and transform him into a Techno-Organic being deserving of that same name - was not lost on him. He had been infected, actually, but Belasco had purged the virus from his body, even as Limbo itself had once been so stricken and healed.

He reached the top, and saw that Wagner was indeed in critical shape. Eldritch sight determined his aura was flickering, almost too dim to perceive. He barked out the spell as requested, crimson fire flashed from his amulet through his hand, encasing the mutant and forcing him into a state of suspended animation. Whether his Master would heal the wounds or sacrifice him as he was, Doug could not say. The Demon Lord had not seen fit to explain the particulars of the spell to him, and he had not dared ask.

"Roger! Brad!" he commanded of his lizard-like servants. He gestured at the ruby-encased man, "Take that carefully to the throne room. Should you drop it, the pain you will experience will be beyond the depths of your fear."

The kobolds bowed and each took a side, disappearing through the archway and down the stairs.

* * *

"Anything I should know 'fore we go knockin' on yer ex's door?" Logan asked, smelling the trepidation exuding from Pete Wisdom's pores.

"No. She's a good lass; she'll come through for me. Trust me," his companion said as he climbed the stairs to her flat. "And it isn't like you don't have an embarrassing bout of matrimony in your past now, do you?"

With the loud crack of splintering wood, a huge hole appeared in the door, just above Wisdom's head. "Then again," he said, slightly startled, "Ducking might not be the worst of ideas."

"Embarrassing?" challenged a voice from inside. "You two-timing, two-faced, lying sack of shit, you have the utter gall to come to my home, to ask me some huge favor, and you call our marriage embarrassing? And to think I said no when Robin Goodfellow asked if he could make your precious little willie turn green and fall off."

Testing the door handle, the British spy gingerly pulled it open. Standing in the narrow hallway, brandishing a belt fed shotgun and looking nothing like a faerie princess, the woman eyed him warily. "Logan, I have the honor of presenting my wife, Tink, daughter of Oberon."

"Go to hell, Wisdom," she snarled.

"Y'know, 'sfunny you should say that, luv," Pete quipped, "We were wondering if you might help us do exactly that."

With a toss of her black Mohawk, Tink stared at him over her sunglasses, an eyebrow arched. "Did you think we wouldn't know? That your Sorcerer Supreme's warning against helping you wouldn't reach my father's ears? Now get your sorry arse out of my flat."

"C'mon, petal, don't be like this."

He reached for her chin, but she slapped his hand away. "Be like what, Wisdom? Like a scorned woman? I'm not upset about that anymore – much – but you've got another think coming if I'm going to disgrace my family by helping you screw the pooch on whatever mission your friends are on down in Limbo. Especially since you're just being all moon-eyed over your ex-girlfriend." She shouldered her gun and crossed her arms, "Besides which, magic isn't my thing, remember? I go for the heavy artillery."

"But you have connections, luv. Faerie dust and merry wanderers of the night and all that rot," challenged Pete, moving closer, "Listen, I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. They need me down there – nothing but a bunch of do-gooders that're too bloody nice for their own good. The fate of the world in the hands of a bunch of naïve kids. I mean, who are you going to trust, me or an American tosser in a red cape?"

"I don't trust you." She noticed Logan, who'd strolled in and was calmly smoking a cigar as he watched the two spar. "What's your story?" she asked.

"Jus' waitin' fer the fireworks t' settle down," he commented, matter-of-factly. "Listen, I know Strange. An' if you know anything about the man, you know if he really wanted to keep us away, he'd wiggle his fingers an' we'd be shut down. Th' fact we're still movin' about tells me that he ain't as determined as he pretends. An' while I think th' team ain't as green as the cheap suit here thinks, I also know that giri demands I go, an' I'm gonna do whatever it takes to help my friends."

"You, I believe," Tink said, finally. "And frankly, I don't like being told what to do by some high and mighty human wizard. Reminds me too much of Merlyn."

"So you'll help."

She stood a moment, arms on her hips, resting gently on the tutu she wore. "Yeah, I guess. I'll see what I can do." She looked defiantly at Wolverine, as if challenging him to find anything remotely funny about her outfit. "Yes?"

The feral X-man smiled, "Nice boots."


	10. Plans Diabolique and the Death of Hope

Marvel owns all, I own nada. I'm just playing

* * *

The room was abuzz, a cacophony of hissing, clicking, grunts and the other means of communication for the daemonic host that had gathered. Imps and goblins, bugbears and things with no name, all milling about with a palpable sense of anticipation. A few were actual survivors from the time of the Goblin Queen, and had regaled the newer monsters with tales of that failed campaign against the humans. A frog-like creature drooled openly as a harpy described how it had feasted on the flesh of those plump, cowering New Yorkers - the fear, of course, added a hint of flavor that made it even more a delicacy.

Belasco sat on his throne, his slight smile betraying a furrowed expression of deep concentration. He stared ahead over steepled fingers into seeming nothingness.

"The end is upon us, my servants. Soon our Masters will be free, and I will have dominion as their agent on Earth," he spoke, softly, "And you, the hordes of Limbo, will retake your proper place on top of the pyramid, with dominance over mankind."

The raucous assemblage hooted and hollered their approval of this idea.

"Wagner!" the sorcerer yelled.

With an explosion of sulfur and brimstone, his indigo-furred servant appeared. "Yes, Master? How may I serve?"

"You've been granted a reprieve, goblin. Right now, I need you to assemble the legions at the gateway. It will open before this night is done."

"Are you certain, Master? Is the Time finally at hand?"

With a twitch of his little finger, a bolt of force blasted the mutant against the wall. "You've been given no license to ask questions. Now do as I say, or I shall select another and dispose of you as I should have when you failed me with the Phoenix child."

"Y-yes, Master," Wagner said, cowering. Then, he vanished in a foul-smelling cloud.

After watching one version of Nightcrawler depart, the reddish hued Demon Lord turned his attention to the other, still encased in a enchanted stasis field. He spread his fingers wide, and held his hands over the immobile form. Yellow fire leapt from his fingertips, through the field to surround the X-man's body.

"Seems a waste'a energy t' heal th' guy, don't it?" asked T'ym.

Belasco looked over at the hulking figure and arched an eyebrow.

"Whoa, boss, don't need to get that way. I was jus' sayin', yer act'ly strain' a bit there, an' with the upcomin' fight, I figgered you'd wanna keep yer reserves up." The demon's gruff voice was tinged with apprehension. "They do got some powerful do-gooders up there, what with that Sentry guy, Thor, Strange, Iron Man. Not that I t'ink they're gonna stop us. I'm jus' sayin', is all."

"Just saying, indeed," the sorcerer responded, even as he continued his spell. "You are correct, actually. Healing magic does not come easily to me, and the injuries this Wagner inflicted on himself fighting my illusory Wyrm are quite extensive. But the rite of sacrifice requires conscious souls, and the spell keeping him alive would invalidate that. So I do what I must." He paused, considering, "It's a shame, really. This version is made of much sterner stuff than my own. Were I the time, I might choose to break him, just for the sheer delight of it. But someone would need to take his place in the pentacle, and since the Szardos girl had been unable to bring the Wolverine or the windrider..."

With a wave, he cut off the golden flames. Nightcrawler's body, deathly still inside the stasis field, nonetheless looked markedly improved. "As for those powerful do-gooders that worry you, I of course have a plan. With the gateway open, my Master's power will flow through me as never before, and it shall be that even the least of my minions may become as powerful as those so-called 'heroes' that fill your craven heart with dread."

"Aw, boss, now ya gone an' hurt my feelings." growled T'ym, his light tone counterfeited by the narrowing of his eyes.

If Belasco was at all concerned at the show of belligerence, he did not let it show. He laughed hollowly, "I would not, as they say, leave your employment for a career as a jester. Not that I provide you any choice of vocation. Put Wagner in position, then fetch me a dozen of my strongest warriors. And do try to do so without the commentary, it was an unpleasant habit of your brother. I would hate to have to use the same sort of corrective steps."

The red demon took the veiled threat seriously, and moved quickly to carry the still encased Kurt to the bottom point of a large pentacle inscribed in the stone floor. He gently placed his burden vertically, and, completing that task, made his exit as fast as his clawed feet could take him.

His hand tracing a sigil in the air, the sorcerer caused the energy holding the mutant's body to evaporate to nothingness. Nightcrawler's body began to slip to the floor, his eyes fluttering, but a ruby-like flagstone flashed beneath him, causing him to levitate a foot into the air. Then the light coalesced around his arms, neck and legs, transforming into manacles and irons, binding him tight.

"You cannot, of course, use your mutant gifts. But if you'd like to try, by all means, I'm sure I'll find it amusing."

Kurt took stock of his situation. "I won't join you. I don't know what you did to that doppelgänger who you have licking your sandals, but that isn't me."

"Ah," Belasco smiled coldly, "I do so wish I had the opportunity to correct you of that particular illusion. But such is not your fate."

Kurt's eyes were drawn to the ornate table against the wall. In between two spheres, one deepest black, one milky white, was the bomb.

"A wonderfully enchantment, the dimensional seal. I was rather delighted when my servant found a reference to it in the library. Deceptively simple in execution, but requiring unimaginable power. To cut the ethereal tethers that connect one realm from the rest – truly an inspired plan. I'm quite glad I thought of it."

Kurt forced his face to remain expressionless.

"It was my idea, you see. It is why I sent my sorceress to suggest it to you and your home's 'Sorcerer Supreme'. I knew, of course, that he would regard the threat of my Master's freedom as one of the few situations where such a spell would be justified. As 'Amanda' was, to him, ruler of this dimension, she could give the authority to undertake it."

"Perhaps I am mistaken, but how does knowing of the spell further your design?" the German asked, prodding the villain for information.

"I know what you are doing, my poor, deluded goblin, and even though you could no more escape those chains than your fate, I shall not spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say that everything that has transpired has been in furtherance of my design."

With that, Belasco laughed, the eerie sound echoing through the hall.

* * *

Patience wasn't her strong suit, Rachel would readily admit. So the idea that she had to wait, lost in some misbegotten subdivision of Limbo, in-between dimensions, and would have to wait for Illyana's plan to unfurl didn't sit so well.

She'd been going over her situation in her head, now that she understood it. At full power – pushing herself to her limits and beyond – she thought she could do it. Her own mutant talent, beyond the telekinesis and telepathy inherited from her mom, was to project herself through time. It was possible to tweak that ability to jump dimensions instead of time. Hadn't she done that, anyway, when she'd come back from her world full of Sentinels and enslavement to one where she could become a valued member of the X-men in her own right?

Again she was reminded that Illyana, before she died (if she'd died, after all), had been as time displaced as she, and had gone through a childhood just as hellish and had been just as tainted by it.

_**Illyana?, **_she sent the thought out to the void, but the Russian girl's presence was long gone, off to do whatever else she had to do to stop Belasco. Failing any further input, she set about analyzing what it would take to make the crossing on her own.

Slipping into a deep trance, she opened her mind, testing the edges of the astral firmament. She tentatively pushed against the barrier in her mind, psychically probing it for weaknesses, but it stood firm.

Anger rose in her, the legendary Grey temper asserting itself. I can do it, she thought. I can break through and then I'll give that pink-faced bastard what's coming to him. I have the power. I have the will.

She felt herself losing the meditative state, her fury pulling her out of center. She had to consider, how much power? How much will? Dimensional walls weren't lightly breached, and who could say what state she'd be in if she did get through. Without full use of the Phoenix Force flowing through her, she'd most likely be drained to the point of exhaustion, making her easy prey for Belasco and his minions. And that was, of course, assuming she broke through the right partition and didn't end up in Mephisto's realm or the Negative Zone.

She knew she had to trust Illyana's plan. She slowed her heartbeat and let the adrenaline wash out of her bloodstream. Save it for later, when it really counted.

* * *

The laughter had died down, and Danielle and Amanda had lapsed into an awkward silence as they both sat alone with their thoughts. Amanda, still famished from her incarceration, was chewing softly on an energy bar. The sorceress had suspicions about the food provided, but the point Dani about not having other options made a lot of sense. She risked the slightest bit of magic, the most minor of spells to detect poison or other substance of insidious purpose to the food, but found none. Instead, it glowed brightly of beneficial enchantment. She kept eating, somewhat relieved, but still very suspicious.

Dani moved over to the door. "Let me know when you get some strength back."

"I'm doing much better, thank you. Would it be safe to assume there's much more than granola in these bars?"

That's probably true, yes." said Dani, "But I'm afraid I wasn't just inquiring after your health out of friendly concern. I need to know - "

"Yes, I know."

"So are you - are you OK?" the Cheyenne woman asked.

"I'm... no. I'm not ready yet." Amanda shook her head, tears forming at the edges of haunted eyes. "You don't know how easily he beat me, Dani. I ruled this dimension, and he walked in and crushed me like I was a novice. I can't face him again. He doesn't need me alive anymore, except as a plaything."

"I know you're scared - I would be, too," she replied. "Hell, who am I kidding, I am scared. But anything's got to be better than waiting here to starve to death - or for whatever nastiness he's got cooked up for us. And there's a backup plan - we might not even have to deal with him."

A flicker of hope arose in the eyes of the gypsy sorceress. "A backup plan?"

"Yes - we just need to find Nightcrawler. He's got a box - a spell from Dr. Strange. It should help us stop Belasco." Part of her screamed that by hiding the truth, she was slipping into the word games of the White-eyes. The same crap that Xavier would pull from time to time. In her heart, she just didn't have the strength to do that. She walked over to the woman huddled against the wall and knelt down. "I don't want to lie to you. The backup plan may be as bad or worse than trying to straight up defeat him. It's something that would cut off Limbo from the rest of the dimensions, forever. We'd be trapped here. We were hoping you - well, the person we thought was you - might be able to get us out in time, before we set it off. But I don't know if that's really a possibility or not. Most likely at least one person would have to stay. But from my understanding, it would cut Belasco off from the source of his power, so who knows? Maybe we'd have a shot."

The color - what little there had been - poured from Amanda's face. "Oh no! You didn't go through with that! Please tell me you didn't..."

"Why? What's wrong? The way Cyclops briefed me about it, Dr. Strange thought it would do the job."

"Belasco put the other me up to that task. I felt snatches of that through the psychic connection, but I didn't know if she'd succeeded…" The blond woman shuddered. Then, in a quiet voice, she asked, "Do you think Kurt was fooled by that imposter?"

Dani shook her head. "I don't know. I really didn't get to talk to him about it."

"Oh." Her posture stiffened, "Regardless, we need to find Kurt before Belasco does. If that monster wants that thing, you can be damn sure we don't want him to have it. Miss Moonstar, I think I'm more than ready to go now."

"Great. Just – one thing?"

"Yes?"

"Can you conjure us up some clothes? I don't really care to fight demons in the raw."

Amanda nodded, "So long as you're sure it won't be detected?" With Dani's nod, she muttered a small spell and two tunics appeared, with leggings and short boots. "Sorry if it's not the height of spring fashions, but it should do."

Donning the garb quickly, her companion nodded as she moved to work on the heavy door to their cell. "It'll do just fine."

* * *

"It is a pity, goblin," Belasco said, while absently polishing a blood-red ruby ring on his left hand on his cloak, "that events will proceed as they must. After all the effort taken to mold you, it is a shame you could never reach your destiny."

"What are you talking about now?"

"I had misread the portents when you first visited my realm - and hence the servant I turned was but a flawed copy. It was so easy to twist your faith and morals that I neglected to realize the true power there." He held the ring up to the light, which danced evilly off the many facets. "Your mutant power and your prosaic devotion to your Christian God would have fueled a powerful enchantment. With the right object of power, at the right moment, I could have used you to free my Masters without resorting to more elaborate machinations."

Kurt scoffed, "You've made better attempts to try to get me to talk."

"Think what you will, Wagner. I know that my old rival Azazel nearly succeeded in utilizing the power within you to escape his own dimensional prison."

"I'd really prefer to leave my father out of this," he snarled in response, staring down at the chains that bound him to hide his discomfort with the subject.

"Father?" laughed the Sorcerer, "Is that what he told you? How delightfully droll!" Amusement oozed from his toothy grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make. Tomorrow is a brand new day, after all. One that will see everything you loved turned to ash."

Biting back the question that had leapt to his tongue, Kurt could only think that this was yet another mindgame from a master of lies. Mystique, of course, had confirmed Azazel's story. So as much as he may have wished it otherwise, he would have to accept the events on _Isla Des Demonas_ as fact, particularly considering the consequences of believing Belasco's words.

The Demon Lord, for his part, had gathered a series of monstrous lieutenants around him. "The honor bestowed upon you shall be second only to mine in this new order. For you shall be my instruments to hold the persons of power – the so-called 'heroes' – in abeyance until such time as our Lords in Darkness can cement their rightful role as the masters of the Universe Above."

His eyes flashed, and power unimaginable channeled through his right arm to encapsulate the demons around him. Within the green fire, their forms seemed to melt, becoming malleable. His hands danced, shaping their forms like clay.

* * *

"Peter, dear, can you fetch me the sour cream? The borscht is almost ready." He pulled open the refrigerator door to comply when his wife spoke again, "Oh, and I need the garlic and rosemary from the cupboard for the lamb…" He turned to reach up for the spices – why she chose to keep them up high, he wasn't sure.

He felt arms wrap around his waist. "Because I like to stare at that tight ass of yours, lover mine," she smiled, seemingly reading his thoughts.

"Katya!" he exclaimed, his ears reddening at her directness, "My family is in the next room!"

"Aw, c'mon, Piotr Nikoleivitch , what fun is it being dead if you have to maintain the staid and tedious morals of the living? If this is heaven, I mean to enjoy it!" With that, she jumped into his arms, causing him to fall backwards into the counter. His eyes grew wide.

Even as he sank into his beloved's embrace, a quiet voice inside him began to throw forth doubts. But these doubts went unbidden, collapsing under the weight of searing kisses and deft, wandering hands. It was Peter's sense of decorum that, at last, pulled him from his reverie. "As much as I would prefer to spend eternity in your arms, I do not think being deceased is any excuse for poor manners. And, after dinner, there will be all the time in the world to continue this, ahem, discussion."

"Spoilsport," she smiled, kissing his nose and bouncing back to the oven. "Now take the Tabbouleh out to the table and entertain your family while I get everything else ready."

"Is there anything else I can do to help in here?"

Kitty responded with a smoldering look, "Well, I'm sure I can come up with something..."

His eyes widened in understanding, and he felt his neck grow hot. "Later, dear, I promise." He took up the salad – a cracked bulgar wheat salad with tomatoes, cucumber, and mint – and pushed through the curtain separating the kitchen from the dining room, where his family was seated. He paused, a hitch in his stride and a catch in his throat, at the sight. Mama and papa talking animatedly about the fields, how the grain grew so tall in this place, and that papa's aches and pains no longer prevented him from spending the day at work. Little Illyana was a bundle of impatience, stirring restlessly in her chair. Their parents had clearly instructed her to behave, and the poor girl seemed ready to explode with excitement.

"Piotr! Piotr!" she chirped in Russian, "I'm so glad you're here! And Mikhail is coming too! We can finally be a family again and you won't never ever have to go away!"

He patted her head gently, "Never, little snowflake." He looked outside, again completely missing the cracks of darkness that marred the sky, "And unless I am much mistaken, our prodigal brother is almost here." Clouds of dust trailed behind a German sports car that was speeding towards their driveway. The prohibitive cost to the automobile stood in stark contrast to the prosaic, rural landscape, but somehow seemed appropriate to such a famous cosmonaut, a true hero of the State. His mind struggled with a memory - of another world, of his brother passing through a strange portal - and dismissed it. There would be time for such musings later, he decided, and threw open the door to greet his sibling.

"Kavon!" greeted the handsome, dark haired man, "It is good to see you!" He laughed, as Piotr had picked him up in a great bear hug, "When I last saw you, I was the one lifting you up! You have grown very large, and strong!"

"Misha! Misha!" came their sister's voice.

"And who is this? Little Illyana! How did you come to this place? You are far too young!" He looked over at his little brother, who had a pained expression.

"I got real sick, Misha," explained the child, seriously, "But it's all better now that you and Piotr are here!"

"That we are, little one, that we are!" Mikhail scooped her up, holding her in the crook of one powerful arm. "But first, what is that wonderful smell? Is that Pelmeni? Surely our Piotr has not learned to cook so well?"

"That would be me..." said Kitty in fluent Russian, emerging from the kitchen with a large plate. "Although I would point out that Peter isn't exactly a stranger to the kitchen. You should try his quiche." She added the last with a wry smile.

"Mikhail," Piotr said, an arm snaking around Kitty's waist, "this is my, er, fiancée? Is that right?"

"I don't think we're going to find a Rabbi around here to finalize things, if that's what you're asking. But I don't think it really matters, does it?"

"No, not at all. This is my wife, in every sense of the word but the technical, Katherine Pryde. And Katya, this is my brother Mikhail, who perished on the launchpad years ago."

"My pleasure," the brunette said, even as the former cosmonaut took her hand and gave it a light kiss.

"The pleasure, of course, is mine. Kavon, you great big oaf, you must have stolen the heart of the prettiest girl in America."

"I've thought so myself," smiled Peter as they all took seats at the stout oaken dinner table. The surface was covered with fabulous dishes, giving off such intoxicating aromas that set their bellies to growl and tastebuds to tingle in excitement. Borscht, the traditional Russian beet soup, served with sour cream and dill. Stuffed eggplant, filled to the brim with mushrooms, tomatoes and onion, coated with a layer of buttered breadcrumbs. Mashed turnip and vegetable kasha. A silver dish piled high with Omul caviar. Bright red lobsters on a bed of spinach. The pelmini – savory dumplings filled with beef, pork and onion – were grabbed quickly by Mikhail.

It was a meal fit for a Czar. But, he noted, not one that could be remotely called Kosher. Kitty was not the most devout of her faith, but she never openly flouted the laws of _kashrut_. The voice inside had grown, however, disturbing his thoughts. Why did he continue to have this vision of a measureless void, of a glowing portal? Why did he have the sense of fighting alongside his brother, and also against him, as Colossus? The memories would not reconcile with that of him dying in a space accident. A stabbing sensation spread through his brain.

"Peter?" asked Kitty, her voice thick with concern. "What's the matter?"

"I - I do not know, Katya. But this feels wrong."

"What does?"

"All of this. Illyana - here a child. But we saw her, grown, in Belasco's clutches. Mikhail, apparently dead, but if he were dead, it would mean that..."

"Mean what? Peter, you're scaring me!" Illyana had run to her parents, crying, begging him not to say anymore. Mama and Papa stood up, disapproval on their faces. "I thought we raised you better than this, son," his father Nikolai spoke sternly. "And now you have ruined everything."

"Pity, Kavon, we could have been happy here," said his brother, "But now the last guest as arrived. And it's all your fault that he's here."

A knock at the door shook the whole house. The candelabra swayed dangerously, and some crashes from the living room hinted that beloved pictures had not survived.

"You may as well let him in, Peter," said Kitty, her own displeasure well evident. "He won't go away now."

Shifting to his armored form, Colossus walked resolutely towards the hall. If he had caused this, then it was up to him to finish it. He balled his fists, and threw open the door.

Framed in the negative flashes of black lightning, clad in a course woven monk's habit and his sunken eyes blazing with madness, stood his great grandfather. Grigory Rasputin. And he was laughing.

* * *

"Got it," Dani said simply as her lockpicking efforts were rewarded. The heavy door moved slightly, allowing her to peer down the hallway outside. "Get ready."

Amanda, paused a moment to collect herself, then squared her shoulders and walked over to the door to stand by the young woman. She cleared her mind, pulling particularly useful incantations and spells into a sort of mental queue. Her left hand played around the sigil for a quick shield, her right prepared to launch a series of mystical bolts. She would not be found wanting.

"There's some sounds around the corner. Let me take these guys out silently... I don't think we need to pull out the big guns for a couple minor demons." Dani whispered. Her companion nodded silently.

Two goblin-like creatures were dispatched with barely a sound. SHIELD training, enhanced by that learned in the Danger Room and from her grandfather, left Danielle Moonstar as one of the most capable hand-to-hand fighters on the planet, even without her mutant abilities. A blazing fast sidekick crushed the trachea of the first, and in the split second that the other was frozen in shock, she had snapped its neck.

The two dragged the corpses back into their cell, and propped them against the wall. The sorceress cast a glamour over the bodies, transforming them into simulacra of themselves. Amanda spoke quietly, "You've changed, Dani."

"Life's hard," her companion said, with a slight shock at the similarity to what the fake Amanda had said of her. "Still, I'm not going to waste a tear on hellspawn like that when the fate of the world is at stake. Now I'm hoping that they kept our weapons somewhere near here. Can you pick anything up?"

Blue eyes went unfocused as mystical senses explored their surroundings. "Nothing definitive, but I'm getting a vague sense of Aesir magic that way" – indicating a corridor to their right – "That could be your armor. Nothing – and no one - else is coming up, at least without casting a locator spell."

"Let's hold off on that. We'll check out the hallway and see if we can get our gear. Then we can check the other cells to see if anyone else is locked up here."

There were a few more minor skirmishes en route, each resolved with swift, efficient lethality by Danielle. Amanda led them down turning and twisting hallways without hesitation, completely focused on her mystical senses bringing them to their goal. They moved on silent feet towards a heavy, bronze-fitted door.

"A strongroom," whispered Amanda. "The emanations come from here. I'll try to muffle the wards if you can get the lock." Seeing the nod of assent, she reached out and lightly touched Dani's arm, "I can't guarantee anything. We're in his seat of power. That we're still free is remarkable - unless he's just toying with us. I could probably 'port us out of here, get reinforcements..."

"No," replied Dani, "Even if we were sure we could get out, we don't know if we could get back. And if this team failed - well, there may not be another chance. We've got to finish this, best we can." She looked directly at her companion, "Are you with me?"

Grim resolve set in the sorceress's face. "Yes," she said simply, then began her incantation. The pair worked for several long minutes, as Dani struggled with a series of locks that seemed to dance along in and out of phase, trying to remain within the constraints of the silencing spell cast around them. Droplets of sweat formed on her brow as she concentrated on her movements, timing her cantrip to collapse the waveform of the lock meticulously.

There was no sound to indicate she'd succeeded, no physical sensation to confirm that the door was open and would not bring a demonic horde down on their heads upon entry. But they'd done all they could, and the Cheyenne woman had the sense it would work. She glanced over, and tensed her muscles. She tripped the latch, and shoved hard, opening it wide enough to dive through. She sprang catlike to her feet, and looked around.

The room was small, maybe ten feet square. A stone table flanked by large stone gargoyles- grotesques, actually - loomed against the far wall, and on top, in a disorganized pile, where her things. Her SHIELD jumpsuit, her armor, her weapons. But there was Shadowcat's uniform as well, and her two photonic katanas. But there was no sign of Nightcrawler's swords, nor the uniforms for either him, Rachel or Colossus. And the bomb was not here either. Hopefully that meant they were still free out there.

"It's clear," she called to Amanda, who was still at the door. "He's got Shadowcat, but I think that Rachel, Peter and Kurt may still be free. At least, well, there stuff isn't here."

A sigh of hopeful relief escaped the witch's lips. "So… what do we do now?"

Dani had doffed the tunic Amanda had created and was pulling on her jumpsuit. "Now, I think we try to find Kitty, rescue her." She pulled the mail shirt over her head. "And then – Belasco gets what he truly deserves."

Before Amanda could say anything, the door slammed shut on its own accord, and the two huge statues began to move. It was a trap.

Dani's fingers flew to her quiver, trying to find an arrow that would have any effect on the stone terrors that were moving towards them. High explosive was out - they'd be caught in the blast as well in this small area. Incendiary shafts wouldn't bother these creatures, nor would her shock arrows. She chose a small pointed armor piercing arrow, designed to slip through mail and puncture plate armor. She thought that if she could hit a weak spot - maybe the gimlet-like eyes - she might be able to do some damage. One of the creatures took a ponderous swing at her that she ducked under, nocking the arrow as she did. She loosed it, hitting her target in a shot that would make Hawkeye proud, sinking her point several inches into the gem and into the stone head.

A huge, three clawed hand reached up and broke the shaft off, before continuing to come at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Amanda - after a desperate, futile grab at the door - was now just as hard-pressed as she. More so, since all the woman had to defend herself was a long knife taken from one of the goblins they'd dispatched on the way. And, even worse, from the way she was holding it and her stance, it appeared the only time the gypsy had used a dagger was to cut up potion ingredients. She was flicking it at the creature's forehead uselessly in between dodging those slow, devastating punches. "Amanda!" she called, "Don't toy with it - just zap it. We'll have to risk some magic here!"

"No!" she shouted back, "These are Hybornean Golems - they're designed to absorb magic power and turn it against the caster... we need to deactivate them some other way!"

"Yeah, well, I'm entertaining any thoughts about that." She barely evaded a backswing that left a hole in the wall roughly the size of her head. These things didn't need to be fast, and they weren't. But they were implacable and did not fatigue, and they would. In this tiny space, when a glancing blow would be enough to incapacitate either of them, it was just a matter a time. She would have given a lot to have the sword that complemented the armor she wore, a blade that would cut through anything except that which lived, and she was fairly sure these monstrosities didn't fall in the "alive" category.

It struck her as she vaulted over the grotesque when it attempted a double fist smash that while she might not have Sam's vorpal blade, there were two weapons on that table that might serve equally as well. She made a mad scramble, leaping on top of the table and grabbing Kitty's two laser swords. "Amanda, catch," she said, tossing one in her direction. "Try this instead!" The hilt arced through the air, but her companion was unable to make the catch when her attacker moved between the pair. It clattered off the rough hewn back of the creature.

Amanda didn't panic, but instead dropped down and dove between the thick stone legs, reaching desperately for the sword hilt. Her fingers closed around it, but in a panic she realized she had no idea how to use the device.

"It's the switch by your thumb," shouted Dani, understanding the blonde's confusion. She'd nearly forgotten that this Amanda hadn't been with them from the start. Both women activated the energy blades and squared off with their respective dance partners.

"Wish I had the owner's manual to this thing," she said, swinging it in a low arc, only to have it ricochet leaving just a slight, superficial scratch.

Even as she swung again and again, causing the same negligible damage to the animated rock, Dani noticed that Amanda was still thrusting at the creatures head with her sword. It seemed a rather foolish strategy - the creatures appeared to be solid stone, so even if she could penetrate, there probably wasn't any brain or other vital organ to skewer inside. She called out the question, "What are you doing? I don't think stabbing the thing is going to do anything."

Amanda was short of breath, and almost seemed bothered by the distraction. "It's the runesign on the forehead that gives them mobility and purpose. I'm trying," she gasped, barely eluding a right cross from her adversary, "I'm trying to scratch that out to deactivate the blasted thing."

"Gotcha," she said, narrowing her eyes to see the small insignia on the golem's forhead, and switched up her own attack to match Amanda's. Dani tried a slicing attack, even scoring several hits on the two inch target, but to no appreciable effect. A desperate plan formed in her mind, and she leapt up on the table, crouching low. She waited for the creature to strike, another overhead hammerfist that reduced the stone table to rubble, and leapt over its head. One hand grabbed hold of the broken arrow shaft in its eye, and she twisted her body around, digging her knees into its shoulders. Her other hand swung the katana hard right into the rune.

The creature stopped.

"All right!" she exclaimed, and started to climb down off the thing to assist Amanda. Her elation was short lived, when suddenly the thing spun and caught her with a glancing blow from its elbow. She was tossed like a rag doll, crashing into the middle of the room at Amanda's feet.

"OK, destroying the rune was a bad idea," Dani said, somewhat in a daze from the impact.

The sorceress, still engaged with the other golem, replied, "I should have known… the rune was just the command incantation. All you did was to revert it to its base nature. Which, knowing Belasco, is to destroy."

Dani looked back – it was swinging wildly, the force of the stroke sending ripples of air across the room. "Now you tell me?"

The first golem was lumbering towards them, while the second was getting closer and closer with its own strikes. Amanda shouted, "Dani, can you trust me?"

"What?"

"I need you to trust me!"

"Why? What are you planning?"

Amanda didn't speak, but instead dragged the Cheyenne woman to her feet, somewhere in the middle of the room. Both grotesques closed in. Giant hands drew back from both sides to crush them. Amanda grabbed Dani and held her tight, and reached for her oldest, most natural magic spell, initiating it at the last possible moment. The two women blinked out of existence, reappearing by the door. Where they had been, the creatures were pummeling one another, breaking off hunks of mystical stone with each successive blow. Finally, the pair simultaneously struck each other in the chest, shattering the cavity and causing them to fall into piles of rubble.

"You could not have predicted that would work," Dani said, finally. "The timing – your teleport – everything."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Amanda laughed.

"Can't argue with that, can I? Now, do you think you can locate Kitty?"

* * *

Tink stood before them, with a scattering of pixies flitting about. "Last chance to reconsider, Wisdom."

"You should know me better'n that, luv." Pete said.

"You really are a stubborn git, I'll give you that," the punk faerie princess replied, "Now, this isn't going to be an easy trip – and there's no way of telling where in Otherplace you'll end up. My father has agreed to this, but most likely as much to annoy Strange as to help you."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan snapped in his gruff tone, "we know the deal. Jus' get us there, an' let us worry about findin' the bad guys."

The sound of sirens blared through the streets, getting louder by the second. "They're playing our song, but I really don't want to be here for the last dance. Any chance you can move things along?"

"I really should let Stuart and his goons lock you up, you know that, right?" Tink commented, then directed her attention to the pixies. "All right, make with the magic. I want these two berks out of my flat five minutes ago."

The tiny winged creatures began to spin around the two men rapidly, a trail of sparkling dust in their wake. The dust twinkled in the soft light, causing the area to seem to waver and flux.

"Now, just think of a happy thought…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Wolverine and Wisdom said it almost simultaneously.

"Just kidding."

And the pair vanished, just as Alistair Stuart and several heavily armed soldiers came running through the open door. "You let them go? How could you? Now it's bloody well going to hit the bloody fan."

Tink looked at him, "Y'know Stuart? You swear like a little girl."

* * *

Kitty was cursing her momentary bout of weakness, wondering just why she'd called out for Peter when she'd never been one for that damsel in distress crap. All that sort of insecurity accomplished was to provide another avenue for Belasco or Doug to pick at her psyche. Still, she felt her strength ebbing, sapped by this artificial hunger and confused emotions, especially about Doug.

_**I tried to save him, Kit. Really, I did.**_

"Illyana!"

_**Shhhh... don't speak. Hopefully they'll take that last bit like you calling out for my brother. Still got it bad, I see. Here... hold on a moment.**_

Kitty felt a coldness reach inside her, and pluck her, ghostlike, from herself. And as she rose from her body, she saw a similar specter that looked just like her best friend, pulling her by her arm.

"Hey, roomie," the Illyana-spirit said.

"Illyana, what - how - are you?"

"Rendered you speechless, huh? Well, I'm allowed to stretch the rules a bit with you, through that weird soulbond we share."

Kitty furrowed her brow, "Stretch what rules? Illyana, we came here to save you - please don't tell me you're dead. I can't deal with that, not again."

"No, not dead. Sort of disembodied, but not dead," explained the apparition. "Back, during Inferno, when I finally realized how to undo what I had done, I managed to find a version of me from the past – a me that was still innocent, that still had a chance at a real life. I snagged her and encased her in my armor, for Piotr to find. That act undid much of the timestream, and I felt my body begin to fade. But my consciousness remained, tied to that blasted Beatrix medallion. Three fifths of my soul, consecrated to evil by magic so foul that it transcended time and space. But the last part - the part of me that was still good... that remained as well. I ... I tried to die, Kitty, to just let go. But I felt that I was needed, still. So I sort of... dispersed - became part of the very fabric of Limbo. And it took me a long while to pull my mind back together from that. I tried to nudge things from time to time, but when Belasco returned and captured Amanda, I couldn't stand idly by."

"Does he know you're still... whatever you are?"

"He knows something is resisting his absolute dominance. Part of that is my Soulsword. I've bound control of Limbo to it. The rest is me, the ghost in the machine, if you will."

Kitty set herself, "What can we do?"

"Destroy Belasco, if you can. I don't know if that can even be accomplished here - the spells of the Elder Gods sustain him, even through fatal wounds. And worse, it may cost you your soul to try - that happened to Ororo, in my time." There was a pause, then she continued, "But if it weren't done out of anger - if it were done out of regret and necessity - that could confound the magicks that maintain his existence. Maybe you - or Dani or my brother or Kurt. People with nobler souls than I - you might be able to do what I could not."

"I don't think I fall into that 'nobler' category - I want to rip the guy's throat out. And Piotr's got some definite anger issues he's working through - if he ever got his hands on Belasco, regret would be the furthest thing from his mind, especially with what he did to you."

"Kurt - or Dani, then," said Illyana, "And... it gets worse. You - or whoever - you have to give him the chance to surrender - and to repent his ways, to make amends."

"That's asking a lot, 'Yana," Kitty said, her voice hard.

"I know. I couldn't do it myself. But it's the only theory I have right now that might work."

The shadowy brunette paused, "You mentioned trying to save him. Were you talking about Doug?"

"Yes. I saw him bring Douglas over from another dimension. I guess somewhere I thought I could save him, bewitch him back to life, and failing that, left him in Limbo. I tried to talk to him in the silence of his soul, to help him resist the evil whispers of Belasco. He ignored me. You can't trust him, Kit. All the good has been driven out."

She nodded, "Is there anything else?"

"Just... if you get a chance, if you could destroy the medallion."

Kitty's objection leapt from vaporous lips, "But you'll die!"

"I've been dead, and worse than dead, for years, Kitty. There were times I nearly mustered the strength to ask Amanda to do it, to plunge the Soulsword into that blasted necklace and free me. I didn't have the strength then, and there was always the possibility that he could return. But Piotr could do it - the cold iron of his armor, the purity of his heart. He could do it."

Shadowcat's astral form stood there, stunned at what she was being asked to do.

"Can you do that for me," pleaded her friend in a small voice, "Can you and Piotr free me?"

Kitty reached out, unsure if she would be able to touch the pale form before her. Contact was made - in this state, Illyana was a "solid" as she - and, reassured by this, the X-man pulled her into a hug.

Between ragged sobs, she finally whispered, "Yes."

"Kitty! Kitty!" came a voice from below. "Is she alive? Kitty!"

"I have to let you go now, Kitty. Just like you and Piotr have to let me go. Please, remember your promise." Illyana released her from the embrace, and Kitty felt herself drifting downwards, towards her body. She reached desperately for her friends hand, narrowly brushing her fingertips.

"Kitty!" Dani was shaking her. "She's got a pulse, I don't understand."

"Her spirit - her astral form - isn't here."

"Where is it? Did Belasco - ?"

Kitty felt herself merge with her body, and opened her eyes. "I'm here. Sorry. I was - " She was unable to put it into words, and for some reason, she knew she shouldn't. Her experience seemed locked away somewhere, "I was meditating. Amanda, is that really you?"

"In the flesh. Bruised and battered though it may be."

The memory of the ersatz Jimaine Szardos being torn apart rose unbidden, and Kitty found herself grasping the woman tightly. "I'm so happy to see you, alive. And you too, Dani." She swallowed, "Dani, there's something you need to know. It's-"

"Joyful reunions abound!" chimed a voice behind them, with a forced, saccharine cheerfulness.

Danielle Moonstar had trained hard to be able to deal with almost any situation. But the sudden appearance of a long dead teammate struck her like a blow. "Doug-"

"Hey Chief!" smiled Doug, "Belasco requests the honor of your presences in his throne room to watch as the Elder Gods are unleashed upon your world. I would ask that you come politely, but we all know that isn't going to happen."

He spread his fingers, and his amulet flashed. Inky jets of dark energy blasted forth, surrounding each of them and sealing them up in floating cocoons. "Now, if you'll follow me…"

* * *

A/N - much thanks to all my reviewers. Sorry again for the delay. This was originally going to be one huge chapter, and I ended up splitting it in two. And it was still 17 pages. Gah. Many thanks to all my reviewers, you really make this a much more fun process. Special thanks go to Amokitty, who practically wrote the section about Russian food for me. Work's allowing me more time to write - I'm getting a lunch - so hopefully I'll have the rest of chapter 10 - now called chapter 11 - up relatively soon. Remember that you can catch updates in progress over at forum. in the writing forum. 


	11. A Warlock's Lament

"Y'know, I became a superhero so I wouldn't get stuck in an office on some boring conference call," quipped Spider-Man, sitting halfway up the wall.

"Oh?" replied Luke Cage, "So all that crap about great power and responsibility was just for the marks? Now shut up, I'm trying to hear this."

There was still a significant degree of mistrust among their community, but when Cyclops had called – and Professor Xavier had backed him up – they had pulled together quickly, despite the uneasiness.

"His mind – it's as diseased as any you'd care to encounter," spoke a voice, and the holographic image resolved into a blond woman wearing nothing but a fur bikini. Shanna O'Hara Plunder – sometimes called the She-Devil – was transmitting from the Savage Land. The striking young woman had nearly been victimized by Belasco long before.

"I'm afraid that's all we know," picture changed to reflect the image of her husband, Lord Kevin Plunder, better known as Ka-Zar. "It sounds like he's much more powerful than when we faced him, but I know this much – if he gets his way, things will go very badly for Earth indeed."

"Thank you, both," came the voice of Cyclops. "I don't want to count my people out, but from what Dr. Strange tells me, there are pockets of destabilization all over the world. Sightings of Uatu the Watcher have been reported on three continents. We have to be prepared for the worst – a global-scale assault from Otherplace with the express intention of restoring these so-called Elder Gods to dominance in this Universe."

Shaman, of Alpha Flight, then spoke, "The Elder Gods have escaped before, and the legends say that the Earth itself has summoned help to repulse them."

"My apologies, Dr. Twoyoungmen," said the Beast, "Far be it for me to question you on all matters arcane and mystical, but I've taken the liberty of perusing the data extant in the Avenger's database. There were some oral histories recorded by our own favorite flaxen-haired Asgardian regarding a meta-powerful entity called Atum, whom, under the _nom de guerre_ of Demogorge the God Eater, was able to defeat, defenestrate and, dare I say, devour the deities diabolical. Yet I fear this is one of those cases where the proverbial cure may prove more deleterious than the disease, as our fair Goldilocks with the Uru hammer found himself hard-pressed to return Atum to his solar resting place."

"It should still be an option," mused T'Challa, the Black Panther. "Was Thor invited to this gathering?"

"He declined the invite," Iron Man said tersely.

Various representatives spoke, from Silver Sable of tiny Symkaria to Han, Chang, Lin, Sun and Ho Tao-Yu – the Collective Man – of China. Tensions rose as Vanguard, representing the Russians, accused Iron Man of hoarding the superhuman resources to protect the United States, with the Initiative, the Thunderbolts and other teams. "This is a worldwide threat, comrade, does it not make sense to deploy globally?"

"First and foremost, my responsibilities are to the American people. I will spare anyone I can, but I will not compromise the safety of the people - "

"We all feel the same way, Tony," argued Captain Britain, "But this isn't the time for isolationism. I helped to clean up after the attack on the Xavier Institute. Just one of these portals can put thousands of enemies on the field in minutes. We need to be flexible and prepare to react to any threat."

"It's all well and good for someone wearing their nation's flag to talk about cooperation," spoke the teenaged genius from Poland, Prodigy, "But should the portal open over Krakow or Warsaw, will Excalibur come to our aid?"

"Of course-"

"But not at the expense of London or Glasgow, right?" accused the French telepath, Nuage of Euroforce.

Mr. Fantastic spoke up, raising his voice, "Enough! For mercy's sake, we're looking at the end of the world…"

"Is this what passes for men of power these days?" boomed a voice, deep with scorn. The infamous Victor von Doom continued, "Richards, how you stand the company of such cretins will always escape me. Does it boost your ego to surround yourself with such lesser beings?"

"Gee, buckethead, way to build the team spirit. Auditioning for the cheerleading squad? You'd look quite fetching in the sweater and skirt combo-"

"Please be quiet, Spider-Man, and don't antagonize Dr. Doom. He's here at my express invitation," cautioned Reed. "Victor, you must realize the gravity of the threat."

"I must realize nothing. Latveria will be safe. If these 'Elder Gods' try to test my might, they will not find Doom wanting. I bid you good day – and good riddance."

The masked face vanished from the transmission.

"People!" Cyclops spoke firmly, and the line fell silent, "We're not accomplishing anything here. Please, I urge you all to make this information known to any trustworthy agents in your governments so they can make plans to protect civilians and prepare their respective militaries. Dr. Richards, if you can transmit to any allies off planet – any additional resources might make the difference here."

"I'll keep trying, but I've had no responses yet."

"Can we reconvene tomorrow for a status update? Iron Man, will your network be available?"

"I can arrange that, yes." Tony Stark said, with a somewhat sullen tone.

"Fine. Until tomorrow then. Good luck, to us all."

There was a series of beeps as the participants disengaged from the conference. "Don't they know how hard it is to get ichor out of a costume?" Spider-man watched as the last hologram fizzled out to nothingness. "Couldn't we just find Wanda and have her say 'No more demons'?"

Luke stared at him, and then snapped, "Spidey - shut the hell up."

* * *

Doug looked over the three magically bound figures with the slightest stirring of regret. He didn't know Amanda all that well, but he sincerely wished Danielle hadn't come. The two were to be sacrifices to the master spell, their souls to be desecrated and transformed to fuel the collapse of the dimensional barrier, bridging the prison of the Elder Gods and the universe they'd known. Worse than death, their consciousness would become the astral gateway fusing that realm with that of Earth's, and possibly with all Earths through the multiversal cascade. It was an untried spell, a truly dangerous spell, the details worked out by a crazed Sumerian thousands of years ago based on his research into the Darkhold, the repository of the accumulated mystical knowledge of the Elder God Chthon. The Sumerian had his soul devoured by N'garai before he could cast it, and the specifics, written down on clay tablets in a cuneiform script of the madman's own design, had been buried in a cataclysm and thought lost. How they had come to be found in Belasco's library for him to discover, well, Doug had suspicions, but a desire to keep his own soul, black as it was, kept him from pursuing that.

He was about to cast a levitation spell on the bodies, to best deliver them up to his Master, when he stopped, frowning. Amanda and Dani had recovered their clothing, but he had appeared before they could restore Kitty's uniform. He knew that he should be leering at her naked body as would befit a true servant of Belasco, but found instead an awkward dissatisfaction within him. He looked at the pile of clothing, strewn across the floor, and spoke a quiet phrase in a long dead Latin dialect. His amulet flashed, and the costume and weapons vanished, to reappear on his former friend's body, beneath the energy cocoon. If he was asked, he could say that he'd arrived a few minutes later than he had; surely his Master would be too busy with the preparations to be monitoring him. And, who knew - perhaps restoring a measure of dignity would earn some small bit of gratitude from the girl, giving him a pathway to her conversion. He did not relish at all the thought of having to tear apart her soul.

* * *

Kurt Wagner scurried through the halls. The casual obliteration of Jimaine Szardos terrified him. He'd been in the throne room when the spell had been cast, and had seen the determined look on his Lord's face. It was not the normal death spell, or even one of those Belasco would use to torture or bleed them to death. It had been something different, something final. Deep inside, he knew that this Amanda would not be coming back. He also knew that after the torment he was subjected to on a daily basis he himself should welcome a final death, but the pleasures of the flesh still held their allure, and his craven nature and long-denied Catholic upbringing did not offer any promise as to what he might expect after that final curtain.

He was no fool, no matter what the redheaded wench might have thought. The strain of keeping the two Amanda's had caused minor disruptions to the fabric of Limbo, and this may have been increased impetus for her destruction - to prevent such a fluctuation from disrupting the delicate workings of the upcoming ritual. How long before the Demon Lord reached the same conclusion about him was the important question. He knew that Belasco's plan was very convoluted, perhaps as a reflection of his twisted mind. And such labyrinthine schemes always ran the risk of spectacular failure.

So he plotted an escape - the other Wagner was able to teleport through the dimensions, and he'd been testing his own power to see if he could also accomplish that feat. And should the spell fail, should Belasco be defeated? He could certainly avail himself of the tenderhearted nature of the "heroes", but that filled him with a certain degree of distaste. Being Belasco's manservant was one thing, no matter how degrading and painful. Through him was the path to power. Those others, those deluded fools, as he once was so long ago, he was quite sure he would be sick if he had to suffer their smug righteousness for very long.

But… if Belasco failed, and the fools departed Limbo in celebration… well, there might just be a vacuum that an enterprising mutant could exploit. He knew his Master's seat of power as well as any, where items with which he could control any of the remaining denizens of this benighted dimension could be found.

His head still full of plots and schemes, Kurt walked into a twisted version of an ancient Venetian ballroom that served as a barracks for those monsters who possessed a rough equivalent of officer status among the Demon Lord's army. "Listen up, _meine Kameraden_," he said to the assembled host, each of which was a lieutenant commanding hundreds of its kind. "Our Master has sent me with your marching orders. You are to head to your respective gates and await his signal."

A scaly lizard-bear grunted, "Why should we listen to a half-formed goblin? You ain't even a demon, just a sniveling toady. Why would the Master send you?" The thing crossed its mammoth arms, "And how do we know you ain't the other one, the good one?"

"How, indeed?" Kurt kept his tone casual. The beast challenging him stood at least two feet taller than he, and three times as wide. Its gaping maw oozed with rather pernicious venom, and he knew that no one around would give him aid should he get bitten. He strode forward, forcing himself to smile, "Well, perhaps my inferior duplicate could muster the guts to bluff an entire hall full of ferocious, man-eating - if not overly intelligent - monsters. But, quite frankly, I sincerely doubt he has the intestinal fortitude to do this-"

With that, he sprang into the air, vanishing in a puff of smoke. The lizard-bear spun around, figuring an attack from behind would follow, only to hear that telltale bamf right above it. Kurt landed on its shoulders, and grabbed the serpentine head around the neck. In another explosion of brimstone and sulfur, he disappeared, and the now headless body of the creature toppled slowly over, crushing some of the smaller demons beneath its mass.

A small shower of ichor rained down on them, and they looked up to see Kurt leaning casually on the candelabra, holding the now blankly staring head. "So, do I have everyone's attention? Good. Now, move out! The last demon in this hall will be teleported into the floor."

The creatures scattered, trampling one another to get through the door. Kurt watched with amusement, and then, because he could not determine which of two imps, one a cancerous yellow, the other a vomitous green, had been last one out, proceeded to make good on his threat for both, leaving them sunk halfway into the floor. Their screams reverberated down the hallways after the others, prodding them to move even faster. Kurt smiled; he had learned his Master's lessons well. Had he only the power to challenge for a more formidable role. But now, he had dozens more rooms and thousands more demons to call to arms.

* * *

Doug strode into the throne room, his prisoners, still wrapped in obsidian energy, levitating behind him. "They were attempting to escape, m'Lord. The witch and Valkyrie, that is. They had retrieved their accessories and even had the audacity to defy your will by freeing your new chosen apprentice. I daresay you may choose to investigate how they managed to circumvent the wards and defeat your guardians, at your leisure of course."

"Interesting," purred Belasco, his eyes growing distant as he stroked his close-cropped beard, "There is a null field around their cell, blinding my wards and other enchantments. And it was applied externally, blanketing my own spells and allowing our guests to escape. I wonder who would have such power and the subtlety to thwart me in my own castle."

Feeling the now burning eyes upon him, Doug swallowed involuntarily. "I can assure you, my dread Lord, that I had nothing-"

"Your conscience is guilty, my servant," the sorceror said, his face growing hard, "but there is no way you could have accomplished the feat. The gem for whence all your power stems would have told me, just as it informed me of your moment of charity towards the girl for whom you still hold far too much affection."

Caught in the act, Doug could only assent. "Yes, Master. I will strive to purge the unproductive emotional entanglements with your other servants."

"I hardly thinks it matters at this point, but I find your lack of focus an unnecessary complication to my plans." His tone was nonchalant, but the sense of foreboding was spreading, causing the hairs to rise on Douglas Ramsey's arms. "And with the failure of Szardos to bring us my dearly missed enemy Ororo or the savage little beastling Wolverine, you've helped me choose the centerpiece for the spell."

Realization dawned quickly. "But… I thought we agreed… Master, forgive me, but you had said, with her joining us… that it would..." His solid black eyes faded, the whites beneath becoming visible for the first time in years. He stammered, and words failed him. His power had failed him; he had no warning.

"Servant, place them in the pentacle."

Doug looked at him, mouth agape.

Belasco's hand flashed, and the mystic bolt connected with his apprentice's chest with enough force to send him halfway across the room, leaving him in a charred, crumpled heap. "Pity. He'd shown promise."

Nightcrawler cried out involuntarily. He'd barely come to grips that the erstwhile Cypher, long considered dead in his world, had become an ally of their long time foe when his Master had so callously killed him. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, that he was more than acquainted with Belasco's cruelty, and that if the sorcerer wanted to dispose of his own people, it would make the X-men's job easier. But he couldn't - his recollections of Douglas, his earnest nature, his railing against a power that kept him on the sidelines instead of fighting alongside his friends – the German's heart broke that the promise of that life had been cut short yet again. He'd spent quite a bit of time planning an argument to sway him back to the side of the angels, all for naught. Had the boy only waited a few more minutes.

"T'ym, place the sacrifices in their proper position. The Valkyrie on the right, the witch on the left."

"An' the kitty in th' middle?" the hulking figure enquired, grabbing Dani and Amanda's cocoon and carrying them to their respective positions in the pentacle.

"Quite," he replied, his smile growing wider. He hefted the black box, balancing it in his outstretched palm. "Such a small little device. To think that this was all we needed to free my Masters. Of course, it took careful planning, a certain amount of guile, and a serendipitous moment or two, but now we are on the verge of everything I have dreamed of."

As his demonic servant hoisted Kitty up and over to the middle of the floor, Belasco arose from his throne and began a stately walk over there. With a wave, the dark energy encasing the women dissipated. For Dani and Amanda, this was immediately replaced by the blood-crimson light from the dark ruby gems beneath their feet, leaving Shadowcat alone, dazed, in the center. The sorcerer raised his palm, and a stone altar adorned with bas-relief of tentacled beings arose from below Kitty's frame. At his command, the stone decorations began to move, rising up from the surface to grasp her limbs and bind her tight. He walked over to her and placed the interdimensional bomb on her torso.

His restored right hand reached down and pulled his own dark blade from the scabbard at his side. "And now, we begin."

* * *

Colossus did not pause to gape at the mad monk's appearance. Instead, he lashed out, delivering a thunderous blow that would have felled a skyscraper. He followed that with a left hook that would have smashed large boulders. Not letting up, he continued his ferocious assault on the frail figure before him, with uppercuts, elbow strikes, roundhouse kicks and even a head butt. And through it all, Rasputin stood, unmarked and unyielding, with the same amused look on his face.

"Are you finished?" yawned Grigory in Russian, "I've great need of your body, and a wondrous destiny to fulfill."

"You are not real, I think," commented Piotr, in between blows, "You are as much an illusion as this farm."

"Then why do you continue to strike? Succumbing to the madness that is my legacy? Give in, Piotr Nikolievitch. I can give you the peace that you seek so desperately."

"I strike because it helps me think." He had adopted the rhythmic pounding he would use when chopping firewood. "What I do not understand is how Belasco has trapped me. I thought my armor was resistant to magic."

The monk reached up and, against all logic, caught the next punch in his hand. "Well, if you must know," he said, "You reverted to human form when you thought you'd been killed by the dragon. The mind, my boy, is a powerful weapon, even against itself."

With that, Rasputin backhanded Colossus, sending him flying.

Outside, the opal shuddered on its pedestal.

* * *

In a corner of Limbo, the air began to vibrate wildly, before a crack tore through the nothingness and two figures spilled out onto the ground, connecting with the rocks below with a loud thump, one on top of the other. "-the hell offa me, ya limey lump," snarled one, a short, hairy foul attitude in the shape of a hero. He raised an arm, lifting the groaning man in the dark suit just enough to wriggle his way free. "Yer wife's got one helluva sense'a humor. I had more fun gettin' thrown outta Stark Tower."

The other weakly moved his hand to brush the unkempt hair from his eyes, then reconsidered and chose to vomit up his lunch - the last of a Shi'ar scotch he'd found on the X-jet. Wiping his mouth, he grumbled, "Stuff tasted better... coming up. Knew those damn bird brained aliens couldn't make a decent drink."

Wolverine stood up slowly, his legs still unsteady despite his healing factor. All his senses seemed overloaded by the faerie dust that had propelled them from Earth. His nostrils were filled with the gunk, and his X-costume was fresh out of Kleenex. "I can't smell for crap right now, Wisdom. Stop feelin' sorry for yerself, get yer useless tail up an' give me a hand here."

Still on his knees, Wisdom dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and glared over at the X-man. "You want a hand? Here's your bloody hand." He lashed out with his right arm, pointing at Wolverine, his fingertips glowing. Four blazing hotknives streaked through the air.

Logan glanced back at the charred remains of a pair of demons, then again at the mutant spy. "Not bad," he said, by way of thanks, "That power'a yours, it sure comes in-" Before he could finish, he let out a hellacious sneeze.

"'Handy'?" finished Wisdom sarcastically, as he got to his feet. He reached in his trenchcoat and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to the shorter man. "Here."

With a nod and a comment about "damn fairy dust", Wolverine took the small square of fabric, absently noticing a small crow, perhaps a raven, embroidered on the corner. He blew his nose violently, then moved to stash the handkerchief in his belt.

"I'll be wanting that back," said Pete. Glancing at the soiled linen in Logan's hand, he added, "After it's laundered, that is."

"Never figured you for the sentimental sort, Wisdom."

"Yeah, well, you know."

Logan looked at him hard, then inclined his head just a bit. "Yeah. I know."

* * *

Belasco looked over the five-pointed star with a grim smile. He sensed that the Russian was dazed within his sphere and thus could be extracted and bound like the others. But the Starchild was still alert - and quite angry, by the emanations radiating from her obsidian globe - and far too powerful to release. Altering the arcane formulae to include their orb-captured essences had not been easy, and to upset that balance now would be impractical at best.

"Any last words, goblin? A prayer to your 'Savior', or that tired warning that I'll not get away with this? Or have your bravado and your faith finally failed you?"

"I have my faith, villain, in my Savior and in the inevitability of your failure, just like every other time you've faced the X-men."

Grinning broadly now, the sorcerer raised his sword above his head, "Now I feel the stage is properly set. Let us begin!" The first words he spoke caused yellow-green flames to rise in a circle around the inverted pentacle that held them. The next phrasing made the ruby points to pulse, shooting beams of dark red to the ceiling, raising Kurt, Dani, Amanda and the two spheres holding Piotr and Rachel. Their bonds vanished in the process, but they were paralyzed by the mystical sheaths of light, giving the appearance that they were drowning in a column of blood.

Outside the circle, the remaining demons began to gather along the circumference. The color of the flames made their hideously excited faces look pale and diseased. They all started intently as their Master began the spell that would free them all, to set them on a world of fresh meat and endless opportunities.

From each point of the pentacle, from the heart of each of the victims, a bright white ray of soul energy burst. The five beams converged on the box on top of Kitty's chest, and it began to glow. From Belasco's tongue, incantations rippled endlessly onwards. The room grew dark, and grey vapors began to coalesce in the vaulted ceiling. Faint images, like shadow figures in a misty rain, could almost be recognized. "Behold!" called out a burly, pig-snouted ogre as it pointed upwards, "The Elder Gods! The rightful rulers of all that exists!"

Simultaneously, all over Limbo, a curious sort of faint double vision was being experienced. Along with the wastelands and blight that made up the landscape showed hints of vast oceans and sprawling cities, and, most importantly, of human beings scurrying about.

* * *

Dr. Strange had been meditating in his Sanctum Sanctorum, hovering five feet above the ground in the lotus position. Now he was on the floor blinking, saved from a bruised posterior by the collection of cushions by which Wong had chosen to decorate the meditative chamber.

The dimensional walls appeared to be breaking down. He closed his eyes, focused his will, and magically sent the thought out into the ether. It would travel across the globe to the predetermined few that were privy to the plan.

It said, simply, "Oathbreaker."

* * *

The sorcerer reveled in the events surrounding him – the wards binding his Masters were becoming distinct, and the merging of the dimensions continued apace. He stood over the altar, his chant reaching its crescendo. His ebon blade traced designs in the air, almost as if he were performing a tai chi form, with the patterns bursting into flame with the movement.

"And now, my dear, I offer up all of your nine lives so that the Universe can be transformed in their glory!"

He reversed the grip on the sword, and brought it down in a mighty stroke, aiming for the center of the dimensional bomb and intent on impaling the two.

Before the tip could make contact, however, the box seemed to shift. Two slim columns erupted from the edges, slamming into the Demon Lord's arms like pistons before transforming into manacle-like hands. The box itself began to unfold, growing and metamorphing, quickly flowing into a humanoid shape. Belasco, his eyes wide and the exultant expression on his face fading, struggled futilely to push his sword down, but found himself overmatched by the new arrival.

"You have tried to hurt my friends." Warlock said, shifting to the form reminiscent of a Japanese armored robot. "You changed oncesoulfriend Douglas Ramsey to be evil like you, and then extinguished him without a thought. You want to make the Earth into a horrible place by sacrificing it to your deities."

Still struggling, the sorcerer saw the flesh on his arm sounding that viselike grip, begin to change rapidly, becoming black and metallic, with dull yellow lines where his veins had been. He was becoming like the creature that held him. "What are you doing to me?" he demanded of his captor.

"I have infected you with the transmode virus and am draining you of your lifeglow. You will be rendered inert, to never bother my friends or me again," explained the techno-organic being. "I was the contingency against you."

"No!"

"Yes," Nightcrawler said as the energy that held them began to fade, "We didn't trust 'Amanda' entirely, and Dr. Strange was aware of the way the dimensional bomb she had suggested could be turned against us, and Cyclops had suggested we use it as a decoy, just in case."

Belasco's body had been nearly completely transformed into living circuitry, and the spells he'd been casting, robbed of the force of his will and incantations, began to dissipate. The captured X-men fell to the ground, and immediately began to move. Amanda's magicks made quick work of the table holding Kitty down as Dani nocked an arrow and glanced at Kurt. The demons remaining in the throne room were still in shock at the turn of events, but that wouldn't last. Even now, towering above the crowd, they could see the hulking figure of T'ym making his way towards them.

"Any ideas?" ask Dani, mentally selecting her targets, trying to determine which monster would lead the inevitable attack.

"Yes - reinforcements," Kurt responded, his eyes darting around to assess the situation. "Rachel and Peter are stuck in those globes. We get them out, I think we have a chance."

Amanda looked up from the table. "The Spheres of S'lkath'z," she said, clinically, "Powerful artifacts."

"Can you breach them?"

"With a little help. Dani, do you have any silver arrows?" The gypsy sorceress moved quickly to reach her.

"There's one in the quiver. Why?" Dani asked.

With a frown, the blond located the sharp broadpoint. "It'll have to do double duty. We'll need to work together - cast your most powerful nullification spell on it, and hurry!"

Dani complied, with a spell Talisman had said to use only when situations were most dire. Amanda's eyes widened a little when she heard it, but she set her shoulders and cast her own enchantment. Then she dragged the Cheyenne woman onto a plane parallel to the orbs that held their teammates. "You know what you need to do..." Dani drew back the bowstring, taking careful aim. The fact that the demons had started to move forward was pushed from her thoughts, and she let fly.

The arrow flew straight, right through the middle of the onyx sphere without slowing. Its path held true, and it punctured the second, milky white one. Every physics class she had ever taken would have screamed about the sheer impossibility of it, but the arrow burst forth from that as well, and embedded itself halfway into a stone pillar. Amanda shouted a warning, and threw up a shield in front of her and Dani. Kurt grabbed Kitty and dove behind the altar for shelter as both spheres detonated with a crack. The force of the blast sent debris and shrapnel throughout the room.

Where the two orbs had been there were now two glowing balls of pure magic. These began to expand, elongating, stretching out, forming the vague outline of two human forms, one large and masculine, the other smaller and female. The glow increased to blinding intensity, then burned out all at once, leaving Colossus and Marvel Girl in its place.

Warlock had felt the impact of the explosion, but was unaffected in his current battle configuration. He glanced impassively at the figure before him, now an inert statue of dull black metal and dead yellow circuitry, still holding his sword before him. The technarch being extended a single figure to make contact with the defeated sorcerer's forehead, and pushed, toppling the would-be conqueror. He then turned to join the battle.

"Welcome back, you two," Kurt was saying to Peter and Rachel, even as he cast about for a weapon – his own swords having been lost in the battle with the dragon. "Everyone get ready…"

"Get 'em!" yelled T'ym from the midst of the throng of demons, "They dared attack your Lord an' Master!" And at his command, the creatures ran forward, snarling and gibbering.

"_Tovarisch!_" Piotr called to Kurt, "I cannot transform!"

"My teke's out. Telepathy's too," noted Rachel.

Nightcrawler attempted a short teleport, and found his powers were similarly nullified. A glance at Kitty revealed that phasing talent, too, had been neutralized. With their powers, the demons before them would have been little trouble – well, perhaps T'ym might've been a handful – but without their mutant abilities? They were all well skilled in combat, but the odds were against them.

Dani said, "I think Hornhead put the whammy on your powers." She added, with a grim smile, "Welcome to the club."

"There's a very strong aura in this room. The spell has to have seeped into the very stones," reported Amanda, "I think I can counteract it, but it will take time."

Warlock moved forward, sprouting pulse cannons and blasters as he did. "I will protect selffriends until the negation is undone."

Peter punched out a goblin after wresting its axe out of its clawed hand. "Much thanks to your timely arrival, my friend, but I think you will find that we can help defend outselves until Miss Sefton's work is complete."

"The cannon fodder's one thing, Russkie," snarled a voice. The sea of demons parted, and T'ym stood, arms crossed. "But with the boss puttin' the kibosh on yer cold Iron skin , I think yer gonna find T'ym's gonna serve ya all up fer appetizers."

"Step aside, Peter. This one's mine," Kurt said. He was thinking quickly – with Belasco gone, there was no more need to hide anymore.

"You, goblin? An' ya ain't even got a weapon?" The large demon laughed.

"Oh, I've got a weapon, all right." With that, he reached towards his chest, willing it to appear. His hand closed around the hilt and, slowly, dramatically (he was a showman, after all) pulled forth the Soulsword.

T'ym's entire manner changed. He held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, now, goblin, er, Nightcrawler. We c'n be reason'ble 'bout this…"

Kurt, however, was not feeling at all reasonable. He leapt in the air, an indigo blur, and sliced down in an angle across the monster's body, from the left shoulder to the right hip. The big red demon shuddered and collapsed. "Who's next?" he demanded, swinging the mystic blade in a wide arc.

"You go, Fuzzy!" yelled Kitty, as she sidekicked a bug faced baboon demon. Without T'ym to goad them to battle, the smaller creatures were losing their nerve. Now that Nightcrawler was slicing large swaths of them and 'Lock was taking them out by the dozen with plasma and laserfire, it wouldn't be long for the critter's respective nerve broke and they ran.

"KittyPryde, greetings and salutations," said Warlock brightly as the battle moved them near one another. "It is good to see you again."

"Ditto. I can't believe that harebrained scheme worked."

"The probability matrix was actually quite high. My presence was undetectable under the mystic spell of SorcererSupremeDoctorStrange, and transmode virus attack has been shown efficient against magic-wielders before. Crossreference- Kulan GaZrKzzKzzK-011001100111010111101110001!"

Warlock collapsed under a blast of incredible power. Kitty spun around, a sick feeling in her stomach.

"Your 'transmode virus' has plagued Limbo before, changeling, and its taint known to us." The formerly rigid statue was arising, with flakes of techo-organic shell breaking off, revealing the pink skin beneath. "And what is known, can be undone."

Belasco laughed, before extending his hand and sending out a eldritch wave that hit all the X-men at once, binding them tight. "It served me to let you think me beaten, to draw out the one item I was yet missing – my apprentice's Soulsword." Another gesture caused the weapon to spin out of Kurt's hand and into his own. "Now, my control of Limbo is complete."

Peter cried out, "No! Don't you touch that, you butcher!" Kitty, for her part, could only think, _It's all up to Illyana, now._

The sorcerer ignored that and turned towards Kurt, who was struggling against the bindings. "A valiant effort, Wagner. I applaud you." He measured out three hollow claps. "You've exceeded all my expectations. But then, you've had help, haven't you? Another hidden player in the game, of more use than your little shapeshifter." With that, he picked up the barely glowing Warlock and hurled him across the room. "No, you have had someone behind the scenes, thwarting my will, changing my domain. The effrontery of it all! And we all know who, do we not?"

He glanced around, still holding the flaming sword in his right hand. "Show yourself! Illyana Nikolievna Rasputin, I call you by your real name! Reveal yourself! Darkchylde, mutant sorceress, I command you to appear! I hold your soul in the form of this sword, you must obey!" His left reached into his cloak, and pulled out an ornamental chain with a circular locket. It flipped open, and the X-men knew it immediately by the three gems inscribed in the mystical pentacle. The Beatrix medallion. "I hold your soul, bound to these bloodstones, you will must comply!"

He brought sword and medallion together with a flash. "You cannot refuse me! By my power and your soul, my authority over you is absolute, you will incarnate!"

A circle appeared before him, a stepping disk.

"NOW!" Belasco yelled, and fire streamed from the objects he held towards the disc. It took shape, became distinct.

And suddenly, standing there as if she hadn't aged a day, was Illyana Rasputin. Magik.


	12. Terror Comes to Earth

As always, these are Marvel's characters, and I'm just borrowing them for a little spin. I'm making nothing except the enjoyment of playing in the sandbox. Although this is A/U, there are some parallels to current Marvel continuity, so you may find yourself spoiled. Sorry about that.

* * *

"Hi, guys," Illyana said, somewhat sadly.

She was exactly as they remembered her, as if she'd been frozen in amber while the rest of the world had gone by. A beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, eyes currently downcast to match the tone of regret with which she'd greeted them.

Belasco spoke, formally, "By this sword and this amulet, I claim right of possession of your soul. Do you gainsay me?"

Illyana closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. "No. I do not."

"Excellent. Once my apprentice, you are now my slave. You will look the part."

She bowed stiffly, and a flash appeared around her, replacing her graduation uniform with a short, dirty tunic and rope belt. A collar now circled her neck, complete with a silvery chain. "Yes, sir," she spat.

He looked her over. "Adequate, I suppose. But your behavior could use some remediation. You've grown quite willful since you left me, and I will not tolerate insubordination." His eyes grew dark, "Just ask your friend Douglas."

"Yes sir."

"Master."

"Yes... Master."

In an instant, he was in front of her, his hand around her throat. "Do not play games with me, Darkchylde. Your meddling has done nothing but delay my final triumph, but it is a delay that has sorely tested my patience. I expect perfect service from you from now on. No hesitation, no stuttering. You will give me the deference due me."

"Or what? You'll kill her?" demanded Kitty angrily.

"My dear Katherine, you do not understand. There is no 'or what'; her soul is mine. Yes, she can rail against that, struggle with every fiber of her being, but in the end, she must do as I say." The sorcerer smiled as he lowered Illyana to the ground and released her. He began to sketch a series of runes in the air in front of her eyes. "And here are your instructions, little Rasputina. You will create portals to these cities, and keep them open." He turned towards the crowd of demons and addressed them, "Victory will still be ours, and the fear of the pitiful human chattel will serve to bring our Masters their glory."

The Demon Lord then strode over to the fallen body of T'ym. "You can end this pretense."

The large demon opened one eye, "Shoulda known better than t' fool ya, boss."

"Yes, now get up and help direct things. I'm not terribly thrilled that you allowed yourself to be struck with the Soulsword, ruining a whole series of enchantments I had rather painstakingly applied. T'ym was a frustrating façade, but he had his uses. He was certainly more tractable than you."

The creature stood up, it's red skin cracked and flaking off like poorly applied paint. Beneath the dull red was a shade of purple that was horribly familiar to the X-men "Red really ain't S'ym's color. Next time ya feel the need t' overlay a personality, sumthin' in a taupe might be better."

"So you lied after all," commented Nightcrawler, without a hint of surprise, "You said you were your brother."

"It wasn't precisely a lie," noted Belasco, before his servant could answer. "I had grown tired of his insolence and rebellion, grown worse with the alien infection. So I killed him, and then brought him back with some modifications. I placed a persona more of my liking over his. His true self bubbled through, like noxious gasses in a bog –" S'ym snorted at that. "- But his identity was held in check until you swung this sword and disrupted all my hard work. I think I will add a century to your torment for that inconvenience."

Illyana's eyes remained fixed on the fiery coordinates before her. "Shanghai. Mumbai. Seoul. São Paulo." She swallowed hard. "Moscow. These are the most populous cities in the world."

"And, fortunately for my purposes, possessing a disproportionately low level of 'super heroes'. My soldiers will be able to wreak such destruction that will make hearts tremble for millennia, until humanity has gone extinct and the Elder Gods have spread their reign across the cosmos!"

He laughed evilly. "Now, do as I have commanded, Darkchylde. Let my demonic brood run free in your home world, let the true sacrificial offering begin!"

The young woman looked over at her brother and best friend, a hopeless look in her eyes. She mouthed an apology even as her hands moved woodenly, summoning her mutant power to do her Master's bidding.

* * *

Staff Sergeant Joseph Phillips approached the Jongno Tower. He'd hoped to take Dae-chin to Top Cloud for their anniversary, but his schedule with the Corps of Engineers and hers as an engineer at Samsung rarely allowed them the time. So they made do with these late nights – early mornings, really, as it was after 1.

Despite underlying tensions with the U.S. Military in the country, Phillips loved it here, and hoped to stay when his enlistment was up. He was absently fingering the box in his coat pocket when he saw her coming across the street. He smiled and waved, and her face brightened as she waved back.

Then she vanished, behind a blazing circle that opened in the middle of the intersection. There was the sound of screeching breaks and crunching metal and plastic as the cars attempted to avoid the manifestation and the horrible creatures that burst forth.

As he tried to push through the crowd to reach Dae-Chin, Phillips mind flickered to a movie he'd seen as a kid about lizard-like monsters attacking a small southwestern town. This was nothing like that – this was horribly, terribly real. And people were dying in droves.

* * *

Midnight in Shanghai was full of the same bustle as the day, but Le Shihong was quite used to it. The Internet café she'd been in had just closed, so she strolled along the Huangpu River, in the area of the city known as the Bund. The bars here were far too expensive for a student like her, so she figured she'd just head back to the apartment she shared.

The disc appeared right in front of her. She had time to scream, just once.

* * *

"Thank you for calling Stark International, my name is Rob, how may I be of assistance?" Ravi Nirupama spoke evenly in the midwestern accent on which he'd worked so hard. Here in Mumbai it was just after 9 in the evening, but his shift had just started, and for the woman on the line – a Ms. Beth McLaughlin of Sacramento, California – it was only 11 in the morning.

The buzz of his cell phone caught his attention, and even as he talked the woman through a reinstall of the security protocols for her web server he glanced at the text message from his sister, a student at the SNDT Women's University in Churchgate. He could scarcely believe the words, abbreviated as they were. Monsters attacking? People dying by the hundreds? He placed the caller on hold and dialed his sister.

Thousands of miles away, Ms. McLaughlin picked up the phone again to say that the reboot had worked, only to find the line dead.

* * *

Anatoly Yuridenko waited impatiently for the Metro. He'd just finished an eleven-hour shift at the Mil Helicopter Plant, and he was already running late to meet at his friends' flat to watch tonight's 7 o'clock Dinamo hockey game.

The train finally arrived and he boarded quickly. He asked one of the passengers, a young man listening to a portable radio, if there was any score yet, only to be dismissed rather rudely. Youngsters these days, they had no respect for the game. If only they could have seen the old days, before all the talent ran over to America.

As they pulled into central Moscow, Anatoly could see the station in chaos. A large glowing white disc was sitting in midair, impossibly. And from that circle were all sorts of beings, many resembling creatures out of his grandfather's bedtime stories – the ones that had kept him up at night. Things that called to mind tales of _bies, ale, likh, _and more, monsters that beggared the most perverse of imaginations were rushing about, attacking the crowd indiscriminately.

Several men and women tried to escape to the train; pummeling the doors of the car he was in. Anatoly stood frozen, only able to watch in horror as they were cut down, torn apart by the ever-increasing horde. The passengers screamed to the conductor to get moving, to get away from the carnage, to do something. There was the sound of shattering glass from the front, and a piercing scream that cut off as quickly as it had begun. He looked out the window, now splattered with red, and saw an ogre-like horror that shredded the side of the car like paper.

The slaughter continued.

* * *

Stepping out from the pleasant cool of the Murumbi Mall in São Paulo, Brazil, Joana Madalena Fernandes Almeida was blinded by the afternoon sun. She stabbed her right hand into her purse, fumbling for her sunglasses.

She blinked away the spots in her eyes, so preoccupied with picking the children up at elementary school that she failed to notice the flash.

"Meat!" screamed a voice that sounded like someone gargling gravel.

She looked up in shock at the sound.

* * *

Cyclops was going over the checklist for the Blackbird one more time. It was unnecessary, he knew. He was just burning off nervous energy by losing himself in the minutiae of the routine. He grabbed a small allen wrench and began to check a series of bolts along the fuselage. "Radio on," he spoke aloud, "WNYC."

"For those of you joining us late, our monthly Talk of the Nation discussion with the Motley Fool has been preempted for this special report." Neal Conan's voice was strained, alerting Scott to the gravity of the events being reported. "We are receiving reports of mass atrocities being committed as we speak in five of the most populous cities in the world. Joining us on the line are special correspondents from Russia, Asia, India, and South America. But first, we go live to Singapore, with Special Metahuman Correspondent Sherry Rose-Harper has been covering the first ever conference on global superhuman relations in Madripoor, and where SHIELD director Tony Stark is making an emergency statement from his hotel."

There was the briefest blip of static as they switched to the live feed from across the globe. Then a voice spoke, "Thanks, Neal. I'm speaking from the Executive Conference Room on the twenty-fifth floor of the brand new Shiroyaki Hotel. We expect Director Stark to brief us on these events momentarily."

There was the sound of the bustling of journalists in the room, which then fell nearly silent as the Director began to speak. "Thank you. First, I would like to offer my deepest sympathies to the victims of this horrific attack. I want to assure the global community that we are aware of the events taking place and that we are currently deploying Initiative squads and SHIELD forces to the affected cities. We have every expectation that the crisis will be under control within the hour."

"Dammit, Tony!" swore Cyclops, dropping his wrench. "What the hell are you doing?" He sent out the thought, _Emma, I need an emergency broadcast to all X-men. Belasco appears to be making his move. And Mr. Stark doesn't seem to feel we needed to be informed._

_I know, darling, _she replied in a calm telepathic voice. _I'm with Forge and Henry in the War Room, and we've been reviewing the incoming military communications. _

Scott tried to hide his shock at being excluded. _Why wasn't I informed?_

Her tone was conciliatory, but firm. _Because, dear, we don't have access to a long distance teleporter, and the X-Jets would take hours to get to any of the locations. _

_Not nearly good enough. We're the ones with experience with Belasco. We should be helping with the effort._

Emma paused, then thought at him, _And how much experience do you have in Limbo again? Scott, you are wound so tight right now that your objectivity can be at best considered sketchy. Nathan has dealt with Belasco, and is currently analyzing the data with Samuel and Ororo. _

He cursed under his breath. He breathed in deep through his nose, then exhaled slowly from his mouth. _Fine. Can you patch me through to Tony? I'd like to discuss where he does feel the X-men will be needed._

_You won't get through. His 'appointment secretary' is on the line with Henry right now telling us that as an unsanctioned team, our assistance will not be necessary._

_That arrogant son of a bitch…_

_Yes. But he wears it oh so well._

* * *

On the other side of the globe, Tony Stark signaled for the SHIELD agents from his security detail to form up around him as he left the press briefing, establishing a barrier between himself and the reporters baying at him with questions, the answers to which they could not possibly comprehend. He allowed himself to be ushered into one of the Shiroyaki Hotel's conference rooms that they'd appropriated as a temporary command center. He immediately put on the headset handed to him by his assistant to connect instantly with the Helicarrier and his field leaders.

Maps of city centers and diagrams of demonic creatures flashed across the lenses of the seemingly innocuous designer sunglasses he wore, with frames detailing the estimated casualties.

"Agent Singer, are our own forces deployed?"

"We've got four units in Seoul and Shanghai, three in Mumbai and one in Moscow. We're five minutes away from landing in Sao Paolo. After that, we should be able to pull in an additional unit in each city within a half hour."

"Any help from the locals?"

"No, sir," the agent said, sadly. "They're getting annihilated."

Tony frowned, and then moved on, "The enemy is hitting populated centers. Agent Ryder, I need you to coordinate with Camp Hammond. New York, New Jersey, Texas, Florida, California, and Illinois stand pat. We can spare Alaska, Montana, the Dakotas, and Wyoming. Get them through the Negative Zone transport. Richards will get it calibrated. I want those teams there yesterday."

He redirected his communicator to one of his fellow Avengers, the only one with enough power and speed to make the greatest impact.

* * *

"Go ahead, Tony."

"Bob, can you hear me?"

Robert Reynolds - the man with the power of "one million exploding suns" - grimaced at the overlapped conversation. He spent his life as the Sentry a fraction of a second ahead of the rest of the universe, and when he wasn't careful, he had the habit of replying to people before they asked their question, which could be a truly disconcerting experience. "Go ahead," he repeated.

"I'm need you in Brazil - we can't get enough of our own troops there."

"One moment," the Sentry said tersely.

Tony's frustration at his Avengers teammate was evident as he began to protest, "Bob - listen, it's a massacre-"

"I'm on my way. I just had to finish clearing the northwest district. I brought in a derelict tanker to serve as a barricade. You'll want to get some people there to keep this section clear."

"Oh... OK." Tony said, taken aback, "I just passed that on to the field commander."

"I'll reach Sao Paolo in about a minute – where exactly is the disturbance cent- the hell?" The Sentry's voice was full of alarm. And fear.

* * *

"Bob? What is it?" Tony's eyes focused on a screen that tracked his teammate's progress, causing the window to expand and center before his eyes. The glowing yellow dot representing him had stopped over the Atlantic.

"Sir!" The voice one of the radar technicians broke in over the datalink, "We're reading a new signal right next to the Sentry, sir. The power levels between the two are off the charts."

"Oh god," murmured the Director of SHIELD, "Not now."

The channel to Reynolds crackled, "I killed you! I threw you into the sun!"

Tony disconnected the audio. "Ryder, I need you to move up Brazil in priority. Juggle it to get Wisconsin there. The Sentry will not be able to help."

"Why?" came the voice of the agent, concern evident in his voice. "What happened? What could hurt him?"

"It's the Void," Tony said, almost in shock. "The Void is back."

* * *

The images appeared as a blur across the scrying pool, with the Sentry a gold and blue streak around the blackness of his opponent, indistinct to the naked eye. With a wave of his hand, the scene replayed at the merest fraction of that speed. Panic was clearly evident in the Sentry's demeanor at the sudden manifestation of his nemesis, and Belasco knew he'd done well. He'd infused one of his more powerful servants with a portion of power channeled from his masters. The mystical energy allowed the demon to not only take on the aspect of the Void, but to simultaneously approach the near unlimited energy levels and to befuddle the hero to blind him to the differences that were there.

With another gesture, he set the silvery liquid to show a different scene, with a different lieutenant.

"Sir! We're detecting a localized time/space distortion!" shouted one of the techs, "It's ri-"

Before the agent could continue, Tony was mentally summoning his Extremis armor from inside his bone marrow. The golden techno-mesh seemed to extrude from his very pores even as the red sections flew out of nowhere to form up on his arms, legs and torso, transforming him to his alter ego, the Invincible Iron Man.

The portal formed in the middle of the room, and the shape that emerged was hauntingly familiar.

"Stane?" he asked, thinking it impossible that the long deceased Obediah Stane could be stepping out of the glowing circle in front of him. It was the mystical he was dealing with, however, and the boundaries of reality always strained around magic. So it could be the specter of his old enemy piloting the antiquated Iron Monger suit. He almost chuckled at the concept - it was like bringing a dart gun to a nuclear war.

The image resolved - and while it was unmistakably Iron Monger, it was becoming clear that, like his own armor, it had been updated. More distressing was the predominantly blue paint scheme, with red and white stripes along the abdomen, red hands and feet, white in the upper arms and on the star at the center of the chest, surrounding the pulse beam projector. The letter A on the forehead completed the look, turning the whole thing into a mockery of a Captain America costume.

Twin repulsors blazed from his hands, searing the air and scattering the SHIELD personnel. The combined beam enveloped the armor and blew out the wall behind it, continuing on to light up the Madripoor night.

He cut off his attack, knowing full well what he would see when the smoke and dust settled – his adversary crouched behind a large disc, a scaled up replica of a shield that had haunted his dreams for months.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded loudly, even as he patched into the satellite system to give himself a power boost and rerouted it through his uni-beam.

The figure raised its large, metallic right hand to its faceplate, causing it to lift up slowly. Beneath, despite the hollow eyes, sunken cheeks and pallid skin, were the unmistakable features of Steve Rogers. Captain America. His best friend, his most bitter rival. His greatest shame.

Tony howled incoherently, releasing the energy beam at maximum power at the ghoulish visage.

* * *

"The portents and omens bespeak a great ill, Wong, and it seems our worst fears are being realized – our contingency seems to have failed," Stephen Strange said quietly. He was sitting at stout oak table, shifting uncomfortably on a pale green cushion as he poured over the yellowed, crackling pages of an atlas. Glowing lights appeared on the pages, corresponding to the attacks occurring across the globe. "This Belasco is striking with ferocity and purpose - choosing heavy population centers focused around a confluence of ley lines. I expect this plan has been brewing for some time."

"Master, what can we do?"

"As always, we will fight. We will prevail. Although," the mage admitted, "I confess that the precise details of 'how' currently escape me."

The building shook.

"The wards! We're under attack!" His manservant grabbed a pair of swords off the wall and stood in front of him, facing the door.

Nodding solemnly, Dr. Strange folded his hands together, focusing his will. "Let us go out to meet our guests."

With a sudden motion of his index fingers, the doors to the townhouse at 177A Bleecker Street flew wide, revealing a frail man in a dazzling white robe, leaning heavily on a staff.

Dr. Strange peered at the figure, and scoffed. "If your Master feels that taking the appearance of the Ancient One will cause me any confusion or consternation, he is quite mistaken. Reveal your true form, and let our duel begin." The amulet on his chest, the mystical Eye of Agamotto, raised itself to his forehead, to the sixth chakra and his inner eye, where it opened. The light that burst forth from the orb bathed over the false image of his onetime teacher, breaking apart the many illusions and physical transfiguration, leaving a dark, humanoid shape steeped in darkness. There was the vague outline of bat wings, and the arms extended into sharp seeming claws

"Master!" Wong shouted, brandishing his blades, "Beware!"

"A Shadowight, yes." the mage noted, "Put up your swords, Wong, and return to the Sanctum. You can do nothing but provide a target for the creature, and distract me from what must be done." His manservant was startled at the harsh tone, and bowed stiffly as he returned to their residence. Strange beckoned the doors to close and cast a quick binding to seal the portal against the abomination. The Shadowight were spawns of the foulest magic. Intangible, virtually indestructible, invisible to all but the most powerful of sorcery, their talons did not cut the flesh so much as poison the soul, corrupting their victims into a state of undead servitude. The Sorcerer Supreme knew that even if he was victorious against the thing, the time and cost would probably still serve Belasco's purpose in sending it – to keep him from assisting elsewhere.

It leapt at him, slamming into the mystical shields that automatically responded. He gritted his teeth, and began the fight in earnest.

* * *

Heimdall stood watch on the walls of the new Asgard, almost out of habit. His traditional role as the famed guardian of the Bifrost Bridge had been made irrelevant since no bridge was necessary - to enter Midgard one had but to step down scant inches to the Oklahoma plains below. But the aeons had etched the duty into his godly bones, and whereas there was little chance the inhabitants could muster a threat to any one of the Asgardians, they were not without enemies. That Loki, god of lies and treachery, had been ominously quiet, could only mean that some terrible mischief was on the horizon.

He was the perfect guardian - legend told senses were so beyond humanity that he could hear the sap oozing though a tree a mile away, and that he never needed sleep. He was alarmed, then, at the figure that suddenly appeared a few hundred paces from the walls, without a sound. He peered closely at the armor, the helm, the empty eyesocket and spear. He listened to the familiar cadence of that steady heartbeat. He even smelled the presence of ravens and of eight-footed Sleipnir. Every sense he had told him the same thing. He beckoned Hermod, the Messenger god of the Aesir, to his side. "Go," he spoke urgently, "Entreat Thor to come to the gates. Inform him – tell him that Odin Borson, his father, the Allfather - has returned!"

A minute later, an enraged god of thunder emerged from the great hall of Asgard. "What mockery is this? Odin is dead. Had he returned, I would surely have felt it."

"Forgive me, my liege," Heimdall said, "But this is a matter to which only you can attend."

Thor looked across the field, "Aye. You did right by that. Whatever else this may be, it is clearly a direct challenge to me and to my authority. Mayhap it is another clone – but I doubt greatly that Stark would so callously disregard my warning." He drew himself up to his full height, his jaw clenching. The figure had not moved, standing still, his cloak moving slightly in the breeze. "It appears that the opening gambit must be mine."

He stepped down to the soft earth below and hefted his uru hammer, Mjolnir. "Ho, imposter! What effrontery is this that you should assume this shape before me?"

The face of Odin remained impassive.

"I charge you to speak your purpose, or quit this place and never return!"

The single eye glanced at him, then beyond. The air stirred behind him even as the shouted warnings from his fellow Asgardians reached his ears. He spun around to face the Destroyer armor, now animated; assuredly by the spirit of whoever was impersonating his father.

Hammer in hand, Thor threw himself to battle.

* * *

The ever-present smile on Belasco's face broadened to a maniacal grin. When concocting this part of the plan, he had thought merely to distract the beings of power long enough for his servants to draw enough innocent blood to fuel the Dimensional bridge. Watching the images play out, however, he began to see that the potential to harvest the souls of the "heroes" was within their grasp, and could only serve to energize the mystical engine driving the spell.

Addressing his prisoners, he spoke. "You wonderful fools. In your desperate attempts to stop my plan, you have inadvertently given me the very tools I need to succeed." With a wave of his hand, wisps of eldritch power became visible in the center of the now abandoned pentacle. "Your Dr. Strange thought to hide your changeling within the shadow of the dimensional seal, as if to deceive me, and yet, with my power, just the shade of the spell is enough to constitute the entire enchantment. Watch, as the blood sacrifice in your world brings it closer to mine!"

Behind him, forgotten, with his entire chest an open, oozing wound from where the arcane blast had connected, lay Douglas Ramsey. He knew he was dying - again - and found himself bitterly regretting the last few years he'd spent as the Demon Lord's thrall helping to bring about this day. If only he'd died that day on that North Atlantic island, protecting Rahne. Maybe Belasco then wouldn't have found the spells he was now casting, or been able to translate them. Maybe then Kitty wouldn't be staring at him with a mixture of pity and hurt on her face. Maybe then his best friend wouldn't be lying all around him, unraveled by the magical assault near to the point of discorporation, his lifeglow all but extinguished.

He looked over at the Technarch being. He took a rasping breath, then spoke in a drawn out wheeze, "Hey, 'Lock. Helluva way to go, huh?"

"Humorous comment despite imminent termination," managed Warlock, his head mostly intact, "Self accessing memory file codexed selfsoulfriendDouglasRamsey."

"Yeah," Doug said weakly, "Brings back the memories... for me too."

"Self has... missed selffriend."

The blond man managed a weak smile. "Sorry 'bout everything... turning evil, getting my..." He coughed, blood trickling from his lips. "Getting my... friends... hurt." He moved his head closer to Warlock's. "Listen... if you can… absorb what lifeglow I've got left - maybe you can still make it."

"Negative. Evilmagic has disrupted cohesion matrix. Even with gift of selffriend, self would not survive."

"Just can't seem to pull yourself together, huh?"

"There is another… another option," the faltering electronic voice said.

"What… what is it?"

"Soulmerge. Selfsoulfriend could provide structure and form, self could…"

"Do it!" Doug whispered

"Dangerous. Probability of success still low. Process most likely irreversible."

The man smiled, "And dying is better? Do it, 'Lock. Bring back … Team Supreme."

Absorbed in his incantation, Belasco didn't notice the flash behind him.

"We're both gonna catch hell for this," Logan said, demon heads and limbs flying in his wake.

"I can handle Stuart and Braddock," Wisdom commented as his hotknives of one hand cut down a handful of demons, even as the other, with the plasma extended much like Wolverine's claws, seared through the flesh of a lizard bear, killing it. "But then, I haven't given a damn about what the suits say since my first mission."

"Brian ain't a suit," the smaller man noted.

Pete sniffed, "No, but he's a hero. That means he'll swallow whatever cock and bull story I choose to give him. Besides, I can always blame it on you." Blazing streaks cut down a group of imps that were rushing over a hill at them. "At least I don't have a mindwitch like Frost to muck up my brain for disobeying the one-eyed boy scout's little rules."

"Y'know, Wisdom, much as Summers an' I disagree, he's still my teammate, and I know he trusts me. For the most part, anyway. It's a novel experience; ya might try it sometime."

"Yeah, maybe," came an all too cynical response. "You know, these pillocks aren't much of a challenge. Are you sure these things threaten all life as we know it?" He punctuated that by wiping out a troop of goblins with a wide spread of blazing energy.

"These chumps ain't, but the head honcho's a real piece a' work, and the bastards he worships and wants to unleash are worse than anything your Black Air ever dreamed of. Now get a move on – that castle ain't getting' any closer with us yappin' away like this."

"Right," said Pete. "And I ever so hate being the last one at the party – all the good booze is gone by then."

* * *

A/N – I know, I know. This was supposed to be the last chapter. But we aren't ready to wrap things up just yet! Besides, didn't you want to see how things are going on back on Earth. In case you were wondering, this is after the Civil War (where pro-registration Iron Man ended up beating Captain America's anti-regs, leading eventually to Cap's assassination), and Thor has really rebuilt Asgard in Oklahoma.

Next time should be our real climax. Thanks again to my support- particularly Amokitty and Madripoor Rose. You two rock! Thanks for all your patience!


	13. Souls in Peril

Illyana was sweating. She was pushing her newly reformed body beyond its limits to do her Master's bidding, maintaining portals across the globe and keeping them chronologically stable. She could feel the power of the blood magic flowing backwards through her discs, swirling around Belasco as he gathered the energy for the final Master spell. Out of the corner of her eye, behind the sorcerer's cloak, beyond the outer ring of demons that had formed a circle around them, she detected a flash. She forced her eyes forward, hoping it was what she thought it was and struggling to keep any of that hope from reaching her face and tipping off her hated enemy.

Over in the corner, the merged Doug/Lock entity was focused solely pushing a single tendril across the floor, using the last of their energy to do so. Both had been moments from death prior to forming the gestalt, and pooling that precious resource had not gained much – they couldn't even maintain Ramsey's humanoid shape. And so it was that one solitary pseudopod inched its way towards the nearest living creature.

The goblin felt the touch, but even as he looked down to see what had hit his foot he found himself instantly transformed by the techno-organic virus, and the life energy siphoned back along the link. "Power reserves above critical levels," thought the Technarch/human hybrid. Two more tendrils shot out, then five more. Lifeforce was converted to megawatts of energy, which flowed freely back to them, and as more and more demons were converted to circuitry-based statues, Doug and Warlock's combined form became more solid and distinct.

Doug/Lock was conflicted. Part of them regretted the loss of life- that however necessary it may have been, these were sentient beings they were draining, and Warlock had been taught that was wrong. But there was part of them, from Doug having spent years at the side of the evil sorcerer who had rescued him, that reveled in the process, in the increasing flow of power and in the destruction of his enemies. And logically, he also knew that every enemy he could dispatch in this manner would not only make him stronger, but represented one fewer opponent to face later.

They looked down at the form they had taken upon the merge. The human body of Douglas Ramsey had asserted itself, but with skin and hair of yellow techno-organic mesh. Strangest of all, the medallion given by Belasco, the amulet that allowed him to utilize his language talent to access and perform magickal spells, had embedded itself in their chest. Running a system diagnostic, they noted that the energy they were draining from the demon host was fulfilling both their physical needs, and also providing a significant degree of mystical power.

Fully a third of Belasco's assembled host had been rendered inert, and a tangled web of circuitry-laden tendrils covered the floor seeking out new victims. They found it difficult to control the intensity of their glow, so flush were they with the demons' life energy. It was during such a moment that the bright white of the circuitry on their body caught the eye of a hobgoblin. Doug/Lock noted the recognition in the creature's eyes and demeanor, and sent a pseudopod hurtling towards it.

It let out a croak even as it found itself impaled on the yellow and black protrusion, and that sound reached S'ym's ears. Belasco's lieutenant turned towards the Technarch form with a roar, "Hey Boss, looks like ya left unfinished business in the corner. But don'tcha fret none, ol' S'ym'll take care of it for ya!"

Doug/Lock reacted instantly; pulling in the net of themselves they had spread while simultaneously thrusting their left arm at the large purple demon, spanning the distance in a fraction of a second. As quick as they had been, S'ym was quicker, catching the approaching limb in his right hand.

"Ya may have zilched the foot soldiers, but S'ym ain't a chump," the hulking figure snarled. He then grabbed Doug/Lock's arm with his left hand and snapped it like a twig.

The part that was Warlock started to scream at the trauma of the injury, but Doug shoved that personality out of the way. Pain was something he was accustomed to, and was easily borne. He reformed his hand and hit Belasco's servant with an uppercut to the jaw, sending him flying.

The movement distracted the Demon Lord, who arched an eyebrow. With a flicker of annoyance, he traced a quick sigil in the air, never breaking the Master spell he was incanting. Black lightning streaked from the vaulted ceiling, crashing again and again at the combined form of Doug and Warlock. But the hybrid was quicker, and the embedded amulet flashed, throwing up a shield that the mystic energy could not penetrate. They processed another spell, summoning his obsidian blade from nothingness. "Belasco! I challenge you! Face me, or crawl back to the deepest of the splinter realms like a sniveling coward!"

This captured the sorcerer's attention. "I don't have time for this, boy. Not when my final victory is at hand. You should both have just taken the quick deaths I offered."

"You are too weak and too much a failure, old man. You play around this dimension like a petty king, but your schemes have always been for naught! My gauntlet is thrown – will you take it up?"

"So be it." Belasco's calm voice took on an edge, and his smile faded. He jerked his blade from his scabbard and strode forward.

* * *

The shadowight was gone. The very substance of it, those dark, unholy magicks, had been purged, erased from existence. The toll had been high; Dr. Strange was gasping for air on bended knee, one hand steadying him against the charred remains of a light pole. He'd had to call in nearly every marker owed him amongst the celestial host, and had gone into karmic debt besides, but he'd defeated the horror.

"Master?"

Strange looked up. He knew he hadn't the time to recuperate before he would be needed once more, but that didn't keep the fatigue from his voice, "Yes, Wong?"

"It is Colonel Fury, Master, on the phone." His manservant held up the iPhone that he'd purchased in a moment of vanity and had then enchanted to allow his fellow defenders of humanity to be able to contact him.

He reached out, his long thin fingers grasping the device. "Yes, Colonel? I take it this threat is enough to bring you from wherever you had secreted yourself?"

"Actually Doc, no. There's not much a guy with a machine pistol can do when the skies are bleeding. I'm working on something else – something big – so I'm counting on you and the other capes to do your job and save the day."

"We appreciate your confidence. So this is a courtesy call? Because I'm afraid I just don't have the time-"

"Listen – not all of the old crew considers me _persona non grata. _ They've got ways to get the word out, and the word is that Stark's in it up to his eyeballs. I may not agree with everything he and his god complex have done of late, but it sounds like he's getting his ass handed to him over in Madripoor, and if he goes down, SHIELD Command and Control will be compromised, and this sure ain't the time for that."

The Sorcerer Supreme sighed. "I will see what I can do."

"I owe ya one. And so will Stark."

The line went dead.

* * *

Belasco's attack was a flurry of motion, as he spun both his own blade and Illyana's Soulsword in a whirling tornado of razor-sharp edges and magic. Doug/Lock was faster, physically stronger by virtue of the energy they'd just absorbed, able to cast spells at an incredible rate due to the integrated amulet of power, and could use Cypher's mutant ability to read his former Master's body language to anticipate each strike. Still, they found themselves hard-pressed by the intensity of the assault.

But even as their own ebon blade traced an intricate pattern to parry and block the onslaught, an observational subroutine took stock of their opponent. The Soulsword gleamed in Belasco's restored right hand, his own weapon in his left. The Beatrix medallion hung from his neck. The sorcerer's eyes narrowed slightly before he cast a spell of destructive intent; his left eyebrow raised a millimeter when the incantation was defensive. There was a tightening around his throat when he would lunge with his own blade and the Soulsword was moving in what appeared to be an inverted variation of DiGiovanni's form number three.

Sickly-green and blood-red fire streaked, glowing and sparking in the dim light. The duel was even at this point, but Doug/Lock took no comfort in this success. Illyana remained a slave, and her discs continued to funnel hordes to the Earth to kill and maim, and the resulting blood power continued to fuel the Master spell. The hybrid being could not afford to maintain the status quo. Strategies and gambits flashed in their collective mind, with distressingly low probabilities of success attached to them.

* * *

Squirrel Girl chittered soothingly to her companion as she worked diligently to get the stain out of the pink bow her friend wore. "Oh, I am so sorry, Tippy-toe!" I didn't think that evil, evil creature was full of such nasty ichor! I'm sure Mr. Stark will buy you a new bow!"

"How's it going, Doreen?" asked Big Bertha. When they had arrived in São Paulo, the members of the Great Lakes Initiative had fought their way to the open teleport circle, where Bertha's massive girth was able to temporarily seal it. "Y'know, my agent – well, Ashley Crawford's agent anyway – was trying to get me to move down here to Brazil for years. I can't say the locals leave much of a positive impression."

Flatman, the two-dimensional member of the team, poked his head around an alley corner. "Have either of you seen Craig? I lost track of him an hour ago."

"There's his head," said Doorman, matter-of-factly. "Over there, in that gutter. I don't know about the rest."

"Chrrt! Chk-chk chrrt!"

"Tippy-toe saw that thing eat him." Squirrel Girl said, pointing at the corpse of a twenty-five foot monstrosity with a head like an isosceles triangle.

"Gross."

"Yeah, and then that foul creature had the nerve to ruin my friend's lovely bow!"

"DeMarr? Val? Could you?" Big Bertha asked, "I'm a little tied up here."

With a resigned shudder, Flatman assented, "Fine. Go ahead, Doorman, make me an entrance." His companion positioned himself in front of the creature's stomach, activating his limited teleportation power to create a portal inside. Then he extended his arms through, and, after a few moments, announced, "Got it. And, just to reiterate – gross." He pulled the headless body back through Doorman and placed it in contact with the recovered head.

A few minutes later, Mr. Immortal opened his eyes and looked around. "Great job, team! This one will really look great, really show the teams in Michigan and Minnesota what we're made of!"

"Yeah! And thanks for letting yourself get eaten like that, Mr. I! The distraction really made it a lot easier!"

"Always glad to do my part. Thanks for mopping up for me, SG."

"Chrrrt!"

"And you too, Tippy-toe. Sorry about your bow."

* * *

It was the Warlock aspect that analyzed the situation and deduced the flaw in their attack. Not a fatal flaw – the duel was still relatively even – but one that was costing other people their lives.

As a half-Technarch being, with all the enumerated advantages, they should have totally dominated their flesh and blood opponent, particularly since Belasco's normal advantage was nullified by the flashing pentacle in the middle of their chest. Their current impasse, then, must have had root in some illogic loop. Diagnostics pointed towards an organic source to the problem.

The part that was Doug almost laughed. He had been weakening the Team Supreme by allowing the combat to remain on his former Master's terms, as if he were serving him even still. Recognition flowed into immediate and drastic action, as they began the fight in earnest.

Additional limbs sprang from their torso, flashing at Belasco's body and arms and impeding his attack. They changed size, stretching and compacting, twisting and coiling. They manifested weaponry to pester the sorcerer with particle beams and lasers, driving him back and forcing him to waste his magic defensively.

Beads of sweat appeared on the reddish face of the Demon Lord. None of the symbiote's attacks truly threatened him – only the sword, forged with the esoteric knowledge only the Elder Gods could provide, could cause him harm. But this new many-pronged attack forced him to divert his attention in multiple directions, lest he be tripped up and left vulnerable to that black blade. Rage burned inside – he was used to a measure of disloyalty from his vassals as the cost of having demonic servants – but he took Ramsey's betrayal personally. He'd taken great pains, after all, to pluck him from that Island, leaving a crosstime corpse in his place. He'd grown fond of the boy as he drew out the potential inside, and had considered him almost an apprentice. It was a shame Ramsey had no innate magickal talent, but the Pentacle of Paimon had allowed him to cast any spell he could speak, which, coupled with the boy's mutant talent, was practically any spell he encountered. Now that same artifact was being used to thwart him.

He cast a circle of hellfire around himself to ward off Doug/Lock's attacks. He needed to get rid of the amulet – without it, the chimera would fall easily to his power. The Pentacle had its own defenses; nothing in his arcane arsenal would be able to permanently nullify its power. Instead, a more direct approach was needed.

Doug/Lock retreated from the heat of the fiendish blaze. They continued to cast a wide spectrum of shield spells and a modulating mystic interference field. With a childlike curiosity, they watched how the amulet processed the ambient background magic to fuel the incantations that rippled off their tongue. They knew that Belasco would make it his priority to rid them of its power, and this would afford them their last, best chance.

The hellfire circle exploded, battering and overwhelming their shields. The amalgam of man and machine became nearly liquid as they streamed under the flames, regaining human shape almost immediately. The swords clanged again as the mêlée resumed with a vengeance. Belasco was brutally efficient with his twin weapons, attacking with renewed vigor even as he muttered a new invocation; one not referenced in any of Doug/Lock's memory banks. A sense of heaviness descended on them, and the glow from the amulet reduced to a flicker.

"A negation spell, not found in any grimoire you may have found," the sorcerer sneered. "Surprised, peasant, that you were unable to see this coming?"

"No. Not that," answered the techno-organic/human combination. "I do find it odd you would handicap yourself in the same way."

"You challenged me to a duel – so we shall duel. Without magic." With that, he swung his own blade in a wide arc while launching a thrust with the Soulsword. Doug/Lock moved to parry the direct attack with the obsidian weapon they held while sending three appendages to immobilize the other strike, grabbing Belasco's wrist, elbow and shoulder. With a deft hand, the hybrid being spun Illyana's sword out of his hand. It arced through the air even as they followed up with his own reciprocal thrust at his opponent's throat.

Belasco managed to break the three handed grip on his left arm to block the danger plunging towards his neck, deflecting it just enough that it grazed his skin. Their eyes met as they struggled against one another. The Demon Lord was able to push forward, forcing Doug/Lock's sword away. As they turned back to face him, his free right hand slammed into their chest like a sledgehammer.

Red shoulders tensed, just a moment, and then he suddenly shoved his hand forward, having it burst through their shoulder blades, the Pentacle of Paimon clutched in his fingers. He pulled it back through, holding the amulet aloft.

Doug/Lock's eyes grew wide at the turn of events, but even as Belasco lopped off their head with a casual backhand swipe of his blade, a faint smile creased their face. The last they saw was the Beatrix medallion fall to the ground, still tangled around the ebony sword that now dropped from their own fingers. The sorcerer had not seen them catch it with their strike, severing the chain along his neck, and as they'd hoped, Belasco's need for vengeance meant that he did not notice its absence.

"Now," he said, straightening his tunic and sheathing his sword, "Where were we?"

"We," came a female voice barely holding back the anger, "were just about to kick your evil, murdering, sorcerous ass." Kitty's voice was hard, here eyes flat.

The X-men were free; their bonds dissolved by an equally angry Illyana, who said, "You seem to have dropped something, 'Boss.'" Had he still been human, her tone would have chilled him to the bone. "Like your control over my soul."

* * *

The sound reverberated throughout the diner, making the dishes rattle. The customers looked amongst themselves – they had grown accustomed to odd noises since the Norse god Thor had recreated his home of Asgard on the Oklahoma plain, but there was a different flavor to this one. This was the clang of metal on metal, and more. And it sounded more desperate.

Bill Junior, son of Little Bill, grandson of Big Bill, wondered if it had anything to do with the news on the radio, of the atrocities being performed around the world. He'd always considered tales of superheroes and man-eating demons are something that happened somewhere else to other people. In the big cities. Yeah, they had the Initiative team in the capital, but he couldn't even name one of the members. They didn't come out here – they didn't need to. Who was going to mess with a bunch of gods?

There was obviously someone, he thought, or the china wouldn't be shaking like that. "Hang in there, big guy," he said, softly.

From the battlements of restored Asgard, a raven-tressed goddess watched the fight through narrowed eyes. Thor was far too engaged to see it, but it was clear as day to one of her background – the way the supposed Destroyer armor would flicker when Thor would hit it. There were underlying magicks here, and strong ones. Thor, for all his power, simply did not have the experience with such perfidy.

She took her time, to allow the thunder god to struggle a bit to better appreciate her intervention.

Thor was indeed hard-pressed. Prior to gaining the Odinpower, the Destroyer was much stronger than he, capable of killing him. With his elevation to King of the Norse pantheon upon his father's death, however, he had become its equal. Since his return, he had to face it but once, animated by the spirit of Balder, and he had been hard-pressed once again.

This one, if it were real and not as much of an imposter as that thing bearing Odin's visage, was different, and he knew had he time to figure out what those differences was, he would be able to end this easily. But taking that time would most likely prove fatal.

"Ho, Thor!" called a voice from the battlements. Loki. He was not yet accustomed to the female form that his half-sibling had taken upon reincarnation, and despite her claims to she'd turned over a new leaf, he was not quite ready to fully trust her. He spun Mjolnir to block his adversary's eyebeam.

"Brother, allow me to aid you – by revealing the true forms of your plaything there." Ancient magic burst across the plain, enveloping the suit of armor in a suffusion of yellow. Silvery plates dropped away, leaving instead a troll-like creature, eight feet tall and massively muscled. Behind him, the form of Odin fizzled as well, and was replaced by a hideous many-tentacled blob with two glowing antennae.

Both of these froze at their guises being dissipated. This gave Thor the time he needed, and he smashed his hammer to the ground, knocking them off their feat. He then thrust Mjolnir skyward, summoning the lightning that was his birthright. It slammed into both monsters again and again, until they were reduced to nothing but smoldering ashes.

Loki smiled at the result. She was the savior of the day, and would surely receive fulsome praise in the hall tonight. If Thor were to fall, it would be by her design, not the machinations of some upstart Italian sorcerer.

* * *

Belasco looked over at the assembled heroes casually. "I am simply awash in trepidation. So, little Rasputina is off her leash for the moment – and I stress, for the moment. As soon as I reclaim the sword and medallion, you will be mine again." He began walking to his left. "And once I have you back safely under my thrall, I think I shall have you kill your friends. Slowly and painfully."

Illyana looked shaken at that, and glanced over at Kitty and her brother, "I'd die first-"

"You won't have a choice!" snapped the sorcerer.

Nightcrawler stepped forward. He stole a glance at Amanda, who was chanting softly but incessantly. Their eyes met, and she seemed to impart her meaning wordlessly. _Keep him talking, just a few more moments._ "Now, now. That's no way to talk to a lady. You've been down in the splinter realms too long." Kurt could see Belasco step over to the fallen Soulsword. If he could make him pause just long enough for Amanda to break the spell nullifying their powers, he could 'port over there and grab it, possibly ending the whole thing with one sword stroke.

He thought of something Kitty had related while they'd been held captive. To truly win the day, they would need to give Belasco a chance to repent. Only by slaying him without evil intent would such a death be final. Otherwise, should they kill him out of rage, or vengeance, it would only twist their souls and bind themselves to the Demon Lord's evil purpose. Kitty had confessed that she would be unable to offer clemency, and Piotr's darkened expression at the idea ruled him out immediately.

Kurt was the one who had aspired to the collar, the man of faith. He looked deep within himself. Could he find it in his heart, to forgive a man become less than man in the service to evil beyond comprehension? To someone to whom torture and murder were not just as natural as drawing breath, but were sources of delight?

And if he couldn't, what did his belief really mean? He began to understand what Dr. Strange had meant – to be mindful of his faith and his heart. What sterner test could he face? He took a deep breath.

"I forgive you."

Belasco looked shocked as he bent over to pick up the Soulsword. Then he began to laugh. "Oh, do go on! You forgive me? Are you trying to move me to surrender, to don sackcloth and beg your Savior's forgiveness for a misspent life? How rich! How delightful! For that, I shall have the Darkchylde kill you last, for providing this last bit of entertainment." He brandished Illyana's sword, "None of you can cross the floor in time before I retrieve the amulet and reassert control." He began to stride purposefully towards the fallen Beatrix medallion.

"Perhaps." Nightcrawler said, "But perhaps not!" The spell blocking their mutant abilities was nearly gone. He gritted his teeth and triggered his power.

The double bamf of disappearance and appearance was nearly simultaneous as he teleported. Their fiendish adversary had broken to a run at the sound, stabbing out with his right hand right where the medallion lay. Kurt materialized to find a sword in the middle of his chest and a satisfied look on Belasco's face.

"Touché, _mein herr._" Kurt said, with his eyes wide.

The sorcerer reached for the glittering object in the blue-furred mutant's hand.

Nightcrawler continued, "Too bad that the Soulsword has no effect on normal people." And before the evil mage could react, he'd teleported back to his friends.

Anger burned in Belasco's eyes, and the cords bulged in his neck. He finally took a breath and said, "No matter. The spell of nullification will end momentarily. And then I shall simply take it and the witch's soul, finish freeing my masters and eradicate the rest of you."

The nonchalance of it all irritated Illyana. "Eat hellfire and die!" With that, she extended both hands, launching a white-hot burst across the room at him. He arched an eyebrow as the blast slowed, diminishing moment by moment, until finally dispersing a few inches before his face. He reached out, caught a wisp of it before it vanished completely.

"S'ym, I believe now would be the time."

"Gotcha, boss," the hulking demon said. He looked around at the remaining troops, decimated by Doug/Lock's attack. "C'mon guys, you won't believe how good hero blood tastes."

Upon hearing this, hungry expressions appeared on scores of faces, and a low hooting and hollering started in the back, reaching a crescendo.

"CHARGE!"

* * *

It was the silence that tipped him off in the end. The Void, representing his equal in power and his polar opposite in morality, simply could not keep his mouth shut this long. Too many opportunities had passed for his shadowy counterpart to belittle him, to hammer him psychologically as much as physically.

"I know."

Reed Richards' voice broke over his intercom, "Bob, that isn't - oh, good. I knew something was wrong - I'd appropriated some of the Stark satellites to maintain a constant vibrational-spectral scan for certain global level threats I have indexed, and it didn't read the Void's signature frequency."

"Reed, could you get to the point?" The Sentry was breathing heavily, a shocking enough sign.

"Based on my analysis, whatever you are fighting is mostly illusory."

"Tell that to my aching jaw," he replied, even as he hit the thing with enough force that the shockwave sent five-foot waves along the ocean's surface. "It's not the Void, but it's real enough to do some serious damage. Any thoughts?"

"Perhaps, if you could pull your adversary up about twelve hundred meters, I have an idea."

Reynolds could almost hear the gears turning in his friend's mind. He flew at the figure and grabbed hold desperately. "Gotcha. Heading?"

"Three feet north by northeast."

Locking his arms around the waist of his nemesis, absorbing the blows to his kidneys and the heat butt to his jaw, he flew as hard as he could in the direction indicated.

"Three… two… one… engaging now," came Reed's voice. A signal from space, hyperwaves of an almost tangible frequency that vibrated wildly between the yellow, purple and green range of his enhanced senses, slammed into them both.

The creature seemed to begin to melt, right there in his bear hug. It writhed and squirmed, threatening to ooze its way free. The Sentry tightened his grip, applying enough pressure to grind diamonds to powder. The creature thrashed about, the appearance of the Void having burned away.

"Enough!" yelled the Golden Guardian of Good. The thing's power level had dropped considerably since Mr. Fantastic's gambit. He continued to constrict the terror, but began to fly upwards at an unbelievable speed, through the atmosphere into the cold of space.

The demon began to crystallize almost immediately. He threw it into the moon, where it fractured to dust, and then flew back to Earth.

"Thanks for the assist, Reed. Neat trick… thaumaturgic resonant frequency?"

"Good catch! I've been toying with some counter measures against some of our opponents that pursue quasi-scientific paranormal avenues of attack…"

"Reed- I will happily talk shop with you later, but right now I need to get to Brazil."

"Oh," replied the leader of the Fantastic Four, somewhat disappointed, "About that – the Initiative teams were able to contain São Paulo – actually, based on the incoming data, you're really needed back in Madripoor."

"Madripoor? OK, I'm on my way. Say hi to Susan and the kids for me."

At the Baxter Building, Dr. Reed Richards smiled and signed off, then went to settle down the Human Torch, who was complaining that whoever the enemy was, he hadn't considered the Fantastic Four deserving of special attack.

"What's the matter with us? Has our rep really fallen that far? Dr. Strange, the Sentry, Iron Man… Thor? What do they have that we don't?" Johnny Storm was literally in flames at the perceived insult.

* * *

"My thanks, Amanda, for restoring our abilities," commented Colossus as he swatted demons left and right. "I would not relish facing these enemies unarmored."

"Anytime, Peter," the witch replied, casting hex after hex at the swarm of creatures. "I fear, however, that there may not be a next time." She looked around them, and then up at the foreboding mists covering the ceiling, before continuing, "The tactical advantage Doug and Warlock gave us seems to have disappeared – I can only think that the dimensional barrier has been weakened enough for the Elder Gods to repopulate the place."

"Ah. That explains the seemingly unending supply."

Rachel was firing off blasts of pure telekinetic fury. "Well, how do we shut things down?" she yelled. "Not even I can keep this up forever!"

"Belasco. He's the key. He's tied it to his lifeforce. So long as he lives, the Master spell endures."

"But Belasco's effectively immortal in this place!" shouted Kurt. He'd wrested an axe from a goblin, having lost his swords during the fight with the dragon, and was leaving streaks of devastation among the ranks of his foes with multiple, lethal teleports.

"And you would do well to remember that," said the sorcerer. "Now if you would return that medallion, our Darkchylde can relieve you of the burden of your pathetic life."

"I told you," said Illyana, her voice tinged with rage, "that will never happen!" The stream of eldritch flames she directed at him as even hotter than the first.

Belasco watched it approach him and noting that it didn't dissolve like the last one, calmly held his hand up and caught the hellfire, gathering it into an incandescent ball in his palm. "The nullification spell is gone… Your fire is impressive, my apprentice, but you still lack precision."

He cast the ball back at her, where it slammed against a hastily erected shield, scorching her hair and the simple tunic that she wore.

"Illyana!" Kitty yelled, running straight through the crowd to get to her friend. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just a little singed. I'll survive."

"Stay behind me – I'll protect us." Shadowcat brandished her twin photonic blades and yelled out to Belasco, "You still owe me that fight, Hornhead!"

"The kitten bares her claws. How adorable."

Illyana whispered fiercely, "Kitty! You can't do this!"

"I'm not going to let him get you, 'Yana," she said, resolutely.

"Kitty, remember what I told you before. Remember what I asked you to do!"

The chestnut haired mutant turned around in shock, "Don't ask me! Please! I can't!"

"You have to! Tell Piotr – tell him what has to be done. Amanda only got it half right – Belasco tied the spell into two lifeforces – his… and mine! As long as his taint is on my soul, the Elder Gods will be freed, even if you could kill him. I have to die too!"

* * *

A/N: OK, seriously, this was the last chapter, only that it ran 27 pages long and needed to be split. Many, many, many thanks are due to Amokitty for the beta reading, and to my friends in the kiotr community for their insight, advice, support and knowledge. You are all the best!

Chapter 14 will be up VERY soon, as will chapter 15. Thanks to everyone for their patience.

And of course, all the X-men and superheroes (and most of the locations!) belong to Marvel… no profit is being made or sought on my part. I'm just having fun.


	14. Souls Redeemed

"**SYSTEMS FAILURE IMMINENT… POWER RESERVES 3.76 PER CENT**…"

"Dis…" winced Tony Stark as he hid behind the remains of the wet bar. "Discontinue audio warning." He rolled suddenly to his right as that cursed shield smashed through the bar where he'd just been, slicing through the small refrigerator like paper.

He'd made sure that the floor had been evacuated. The SHIELD agents, hotel guests and even reporters were now safe. Then he'd thrown everything he'd had at the abomination that bore a cadaverous mockery of his friend's face. Multi-spectrum repulsors, omni-beams, electricity, radiation, sonics, even brute strength; all were useless here. Now his vaunted armor was battered and broken. The thing fought with Steve's tenacity and skill, poured into a hulking simulation of the Iron Monger armor.

He bided his time, listening to the heavy footsteps thudding ever closer. He started manually re-routing the last of his reserves. He'd been in desperate straits before, but this felt different. He took stock on what he really knew about his attacker. Clearly, it wasn't really Steve; he'd disabused himself of that notion almost immediately. But the initial shock had certainly accomplished its nefarious purpose; he'd acted rashly, and his adversary had gotten the best of him. It didn't help that whatever magickal protections it possessed had rendered his weapon systems impotent. He also knew that, unlike those demons that had appeared in major population centers, this one was meant just for him. It existed to keep him from acting against Belasco's plan for Earth.

Perhaps, in retrospect, he should have kept the X-men, with all their experience, in the loop.

He'd diverted all the remaining energy into the suit's artificial musculature. The faceplate – it should be a weak point. One full power punch might puncture it, might incapacitate the being inside the suit.

It was a chance. It might be all he had.

He breathed in and out slowly, taking his time, allowing his Extremis-borne healing factor as much time as he dared. He calculated the thing's precise location in the room by the sound of those ominous footsteps – six meters away. Now five. Three… two…

All hell broke loose as the walls exploded around him. He leapt from his hiding place, vaulting over the debris with his right hand cocked, pumping every erg he could muster into this one, desperate act. He threw the haymaker.

The Sentry caught his fist easily. "Now, Tony, is that any way to say hello?"

Iron Man looked around wildly. The body of the fake Iron Monger/Captain America thing was enveloped in scarlet bands of magic energy, courtesy of Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, Dr. Strange, who must have teleported in. Its head had been torn clean off, and the helmet was in the Sentry's other hand.

The powerfully built man followed his gaze down to the head, then said with a shrug, "I don't like people dishonoring my friends."

Stephen Strange nodded grimly, "If we are done here, I need to return to my Sanctum. I fear this is just the beginning."

Tony coughed, a rasping sound that wracked at his injured ribs. He limped forward, "Stephen, I could use your… what I'm saying is… I need you."

"Yes. You do. And in times such as these, I am willing to suspend my demand that you never contact me again. But I need to coordinate from my power base, just as you should return to your Helicarrier."

"But how will I-?"

But the question went unanswered, as the mage was gone. A business card floated down through the air. Tony caught it.

The Sentry came over and looked down at the piece of paper. "Dr. Strange has a cell phone. Who knew?"

* * *

"Peter!" called Kitty, having become separated from her lover during the fray. "I need you!"

Colossus flung the five-foot tall ochre-colored beetle through the mass of inhumanity, temporarily clearing a path. "I am on my way, Katya!" he yelled to her, breaking into a long gaited run.

A flash of purple crossed his vision. "Now, now, Tin Man. Ya owe S'ym a little rematch. Y'see, before, the Master's spell a' control made it tough for poor ol' S'ym t' utilize the full breadth of his capabilities."

"I do not have time for this, demon."

"Aw, that breaks the heart, it really does," S'ym growled in mock sympathy. "Make time."

The Russian mutant continued his pace, even as the demon crouched down, claws wide. Piotr was almost on top of his adversary when S'ym lurched forward to intercept him. In a blur of motion, organic steel fists grabbed the hugely muscled demon flesh, and with a twist of his hips, Colossus launched the monster in a textbook judo flip.

"Nice throw," commented Dani, who was loosing arrows at a furious rate. "Get to Kitty. I'll take care of big and ugly."

"Oh, the embarrassment of it all. S'ym ain't never gonna live that down, not so long as the Russkie boy's got his entrails inside his body."

"Stay down, S'ym." Dani said, "You've done enough damage." She remembered vividly a scene from another time in Limbo, of this creature terrorizing a very young Illyana.

"Don't make S'ym laugh, girl. A frail like you, with a bow an' arrow?" The demon crawled to his feet, dusting some slime off his vest. "Yer pet Wolverine could barely penetrate S'ym's hide."

Calmly selecting an arrow from her quiver, the Cheyenne woman nocked it and drew back the bowstring. "Thanks for the advice."

She took careful aim, and launched the arrow, sending it plunging into his little piggy eye, where it sank deep inside.

"ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGH! You bitch! You red-skinned BITCH! S'ym is gonna kill ya! Gonna tear yer head off…" He pawed frantically at the shaft buried in his eye socket.

Dani eyed him, silently counting. "Good bye, S'ym. Burn in hell."

With that, the thermite-like substance inside the arrowhead reacted, incinerating his brain. He collapsed face first, and did not move.

"Kick ass, Moonstar," commented Illyana with a big grin.

Belasco took notice of his lieutenant's demise as he continued his inexorable march towards Illyana. His lips spread into a tight smile. "My thanks, Valkyrie. You've rendered me an invaluable service, and have earned a quick death. Now, when I bring him back, I can create him a new brain. One a little less self-referential, I think."

"Yeah, well, don't inconvenience yourself too much on my account," Dani said as she reached into her quiver again. "I've got one with your name on it too." In one motion, the missile was flying at the sorcerer's head, only to have him deflect it with the Soulsword, displaying speed that was clearly superhuman.

"Don't waste your ammo, chief," said Illyana, seeing her shock, "Time's just another plaything in Limbo, something to be twisted for the master of the realm's own amusement."

"You always were my best student, little Rasputina. Why must you play out this ridiculous charade? You know your soul yearns for the darkness. There is part of you that will rejoice as much as I when our Masters again rule the Universe and beyond. Just surrender to the shadows. Listen to their call."

"The only part of me that 'yearns for darkness' is where you twisted my soul! You poured it into the Bloodstones, trying to make me as heartless and as evil as you. And it would have worked, if not for Ororo and Cat. But my soul is still my own, and you no longer have any power over me."

"That, my Darkchylde, can be remedied," Belasco said testily. He turned his attention to Nightcrawler, who was still moving about rapidly. "Goblin! It is time to give me what you took from me. I require the Beatrix Medallion. Now." His voice reverberated throughout the hall.

"_Nein_, oh evil one. I believe that the lovely blonde has a tad more right to it than you."

"Kurt, no! You have to get it to Kitty!"

The blue furred mutant paused, just a second, time enough for a club to hit his right forearm, breaking it with an audible crack. He grunted, but did not relinquish the medallion he carried. Gritting his fanged teeth against the pain, he teleported to where Kitty was fighting. "Here," he got out, handing the medallion to her. "Fuzzy elf express, when it absolutely… nrgggh… when it…"

"Spare me the comedy, Kurt. Go see if Amanda can help heal your wound." Kitty took the object and turned to Piotr, who had reached them through the crowd. _Ray, can you throw a shield around us? There's something that we need to do. __  
_  
_Kitty, are you OK_? Rachel asked, sensing the profound sadness in her best friend's thoughts. _What is it – oh. Is she sure? Is it the only way? Does Peter know? __  
_  
_Not yet_, came the simple thought, full of dread. Kitty looked up at Colossus, and began to speak, tears in her eyes.

Kurt winced in pain as his one time girlfriend conjured a mystical cast and sling for his fractured arm. They were all huddled inside Rachel's force field, catching their breath even as Belasco's throne room continued to fill up with more and more demons. Dani had stowed her bow in her quiver and had pulled out her retractable spear, carefully testing the edge of the blade with her finger. Rachel was sitting cross-legged in the middle, focusing her telekinetic talent to compensate for the array of methods the horde was using to attack her mental barrier. Claws screeched against it, fangs broke on its surface. Fire and acid rebounded and ended up killing swarms of dark creatures.

Outside the circle, Belasco stood, gauging the situation. He announced loudly, "By all means, take your time. Bind your wounds and marshal your strength. The longer you delay, the more the blood power flows, and the weaker the bonds between our worlds!"

Suddenly, within their protective circle, Colossus let out a yell, "Nyet! I cannot do this! How can you ask such a thing?"

Kurt fired a questioning look at Amanda, who was watching Kitty, Piotr and Illyana. Her eyes widened, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "That monster, he tied his Master spell into her soul as well, and she's trying to stop it. And her plan could work," she said, finally. "By all that is good, the price is too high, but it could work."

"What could work?"

"Colossus – his changeform, it's iron-based. It's a natural magick disruptor."

"I know this, yes, but-" Kurt's confusion was plain.

"With his love for his sister, and his iron body, and his strength – Belasco doesn't believe it can be done, thinking no mortal power could release the Bloodstones once embedded inside the Beatrix medallion. But he wouldn't be releasing them – he would, he could destroy it." His foster sister had tears in her eyes. "But it would mean…"

"Illyana would die." He finished her thought. "But the Soulsword – isn't that part of her as well? Won't that allow him to maintain control over her?"

"I can see why you might think so, Fuzzy, but that amulet represents three-fifths of her soul, and the sword an infinitesimally smaller part. It was enough for her to hold off his control, but if she wants to die – he won't be able to stop it."

"But – isn't there any other way?" Suicide was a mortal sin, but self-sacrifice was one of the noblest acts in his faith, and Kurt was torn.

"None that I can see, Kurt. I'm sorry. I really am. And even this isn't enough – we still have to defeat Belasco to truly stop the spell."

He sighed, heavily, and turned to one of his oldest friends, knowing what he had to convince him to do. "Peter, listen to me…"

"No."

"Peter, dearest, she needs this as much as the Earth does." Kitty pleaded, "She hasn't known a moment's rest in years…"

"Katya, how can you ask this?"

"Piotr Nikolaievitch, stop being such a damn hypocrite," Illyana snapped. "Or is dying to save the world something you've got an exclusive right to?"

"Snowflake…"

"Now, Piotr!" she demanded. In a smaller voice, she added, "Please. Look around you; the demons are breaking through right now. Don't let him win."

Looking from face to face, at the sadness and firm resolve in their faces, he nodded. He took the medallion in his hands and carefully laid it on the floor. "I love you, Illyana Nikolievna."

He raised his fist.

* * *

Nico Minoru looked around cautiously at the collection of figures, many garishly costumed or even nonhuman, around her. A dream, it had to be, she decided. The Staff of One was in her hand, but she hadn't summoned it - no blood had been shed that she could tell.

Except there was no way she was sleeping – it was barely afternoon. She'd been eating lunch with her friends, the children of the now deceased crime outfit called the Pride (well, and Xavin, the Super Skrull in training and Victor, the "child" of Ultron), and suddenly she felt like she'd been yanked by her soul across untold miles.

"Nico? Is that you?" came a somewhat familiar voice.

"Billy? What are you – what are we doing here?" She asked of the young man wearing a winged headband and red cloak. Her ragtag collection of runaways had met up with him and his fellow Young Avengers during the superhero "Civil War".

"Same as you, I bet," he replied. "Looks like every magic type in the world is here. I've seen Dr. Strange, Shaman and Talisman from Alpha Flight, Brother Voodoo, Daimon Hellstrom… I saw a flash of orange and a pair of wings that was probably the Gargoyle."

"So we got an invite to some sort of Shriner's Convention for magic-users?"

"I'm afraid things are a tad more dire than that, my dear. Sister Grimm, is it? And the Young Avenger, Wiccan?"

Nico rolled her eyes. "I don't really go by that. It was just my – never mind. My name is Nico Minoru."

"Yes, of course," a sandy haired man said, "I never was one for the code-name thing myself. Please allow me to introduce myself – I am Ian McNee, at your service.

"Let me help you two get situated," the man called McNee said with a bow and a flourish of his cape. "Quite an astounding event, I must say. As you probably know, with notable exceptions such as the master-apprentice relationship and covens, we spell slingers don't really get along very well with one another."

"I don't want to get situated. I don't want to be astounded or be part of your mystical pow-wow." The Asian-American girl brandished her staff, closed her eyes tight and intoned, "There's No Place Like Home," even as Billy started repeating over and over "I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home."

Both looked around, dismay that their respective abilities had failed them clear on their faces.

"McNee, are you bullying those two kids?" called a blond woman wearing a halter-top and tight, low-cut jeans. "And are you behind all this, or is it-?"

"Jennifer! How lovely to see you!" exclaimed McNee, his tone seemingly without irony. "To answer your second question first, indeed, it's the all-powerful Strange Supreme who summoned us all... and as to your first, I was about to explain to my young guests that the high and mighty Doctor isn't going to let us go until he's said his peace."

"And your young guests would be?"

"My apologies - Jennifer Kale, may I present Nico, of the Minoru family and who once went by the _nom de arcanum_ of Sister Grimm; and Wiccan, of the Young Avengers."

"'Wiccan'?" Jennifer asked with an arched eyebrow.

Billy felt himself blush. He'd heard the complaints about the name his teammate Kate Bishop had suggested from the practitioners of that faith, "I'm… still working on the whole codename thing…"

"Do not take Jennifer too seriously," a soothing, lightly accented voice said. "I am Topaz, former apprentice to Dr. Strange, and currently working with Jennifer and –"

"I can introduce myself," snapped another woman, with reddish black hair and horns protruding from her forehead. "And I most certainly do not 'work with' you two. That was just a couple times, when our interests collided. Daughter of the Devil here, remember?"

"That's enough Satana," Jennifer scolded. She turned to McNee. "Listen, Ian, Stephen better get his astral butt up there and start talking, fast. This is a powder keg right now."

"**YOUR** **ATTENTION, PLEASE," **boomed the voice of Dr. Stephen Strange. "I have asked you here – "

"Asked?" whispered Nico to Billy.

" – because our universe is at imminent risk of invasion by the Elder Gods. The Demon Lord Belasco has begun the Master Spell of Dimensional Mergence. If he succeeds, he will destroy the prison holding his Masters, even as the spell overlays the whole of Otherplace upon our dimension."

There was a general murmur as the crowd mulled what had been said..

"What about Eternity? Or Gaea? Even your precious Vishanti?" challenged Morgan le Fey, showing that the gathering had not been limited to wielders of white magic alone. "If the threat is so great, why aren't they sullying their hands to dispense with the threat? Why us?"

"Belasco has chosen his battleground well. His Limbo has been sealed off from our own in such a way that for such Beings of Greater Power to bring their might to bear, it would collapse the ethereal barrier."

"Then what would you have us do?" asked Brother Voodoo. "We are of differing specialties and varying degrees of power. How are we to act where Eternity cannot?"

"There are ways – that the entities we serve could channel their power more subtly, through us. Even as we meet here on this astral plane, so too do those above us meet on a higher plane. If we all work, push all our energy to the same simple incantation, they can work with us to firm up the walls between the dimensions."

"It sounds like a delaying action, at best," Isaac Christians, the Gargoyle, said.

"Yes, my friend. Our hope rests in those already trapped in Otherplace. If they fail, we will have a war the scope of which has not been seen in aeons."

"Have we any hope, then?" asked a small, pale elfin looking mage in a monk's habit asked.

"For shame, Feron," said Margali Szardos, "That's my daughter there, and my son. Not to mention your teammates from Excalibur. They will see us right."

Suddenly, Loki stepped forward, her female form still out of place inside the traditional garb of the god of mischief. "Silly sorcerer, the key to success is right here all along." With a grand gesture she lowered her finger in their direction.

"Me?" Nico asked nervously. She knew the Staff of One was powerful, but to be the key to success was hard to imagine.

"No, little girl. I meant the witchling behind you." She moved her hands apart, and Nico, Billy, Ian and the three women found themselves forced apart by an invisible force. Behind them were Shaman, Talisman, and their fellow Alpha Flight magic wielder, Witchfire. "There – the blood of that girl runs also through the veins of your enemy. Focus your spell through her, and no matter how he strives, Belasco will not achieve victory."

Dr. Strange peered through the Eye of Agamotto. "Michael, what Loki says is true – she is Belasco's daughter. How is it that we missed this?"

Shaman replied, "Heather – Vindicator – had told us of an episode, but I hadn't the time, or, quite frankly, the inclination to investigate her report. I've read of the perils of facing Belasco, and had no desire to drag Alpha Flight into a battle in Limbo."

The Sorcerer Supreme nodded. "I understand. I will take the words of the Goddess of Lies as a sign that – perhaps – she has reformed as she claims. We shall focus our efforts on the scion of Belasco, then." He turned to a beautiful, silver haired woman. "Clea, could you help organize our forces?"

The sorceress nodded and began to move through the crowd, offering instructions.

"So," Ian said to Billy and Nico, as he pulled out an ancient looking Tarot deck, "Want to stay and save the world?"

They looked at one another, and shrugged.

"Great, glad to have you," he smiled. He lay a Tetractys spread down on the ground and frowned.

"What is it?" asked Jennifer.

"Nothing – well, something. I just don't like how the Tower is occluding the Justice card, which has influences by the Devil. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Do we have any better options?"

"Oh," he said, staring hard at the cards, "It just means we won't be as effective as we'd like, unless we get help from those currently in Limbo. Everything depends on those pawns already in place."

As Clea moved on to another group consisting of Black Crow, Mechamage, a tough looking guy in a leather duster and a SHIELD agent called Crimson, Loki stood talking to Morgan le Fay, Marie LeVeau and the deformed Mr. Jip.

"What's your game, Deceiver?" asked Leveau, though the question was easily on all their minds.

"No games, Voodoo Queen. Self-preservation has always been my greatest skill, and I doubt an infusion of Elder Gods would look kindly on those of us of the younger persuasion." She grinned, "Besides, it cost me nothing, and if my words gain the day for my brother and his do-gooder ilk, it suits my purpose quite nicely."

* * *

Kitty watched Piotr in a state of shock as he prepared to destroy the Beatrix medallion, and with it, his sister and her best, oldest friend. The anguish was evident in his face; in the way his organic steel muscles trembled with grief, despite his changeform's way of minimizing his emotions.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Belasco walk right through Rachel's shield, the strength of his magic disrupting her telekinesis. He bore down on them, holding both Illyana's Soulsword and his own blade before him, grim delight in his eyes. She saw Illyana move to intercept him, seemingly willing to allow the sorcerer to destroy her physical form even as her brother freed her soul.

"Out of my way, Darkchylde. I've no wish to kill you." the dark mage snarled at her.

"Bring it on, asshole," she snapped back, "I'm not afraid of you."

"So be it," he said, and swung his dark sword at her. Her hands flew up and a portal appeared in front of the blades arc, and another behind his back. His blade stopped, just the tip sticking through the first stepping disc. He glanced over his shoulder, where he could see the point of his sword protruding through the other half of the disc, just touching his cloak.

His lips spread into that maniacal grin. "Well played, my apprentice! Well played indeed! Your guile and mutant power nearly cost me all." He sheathed his sword slowly, then seized the hilt of the Soulsword with both hands. "But I think your little trick will not work on this, will it? Not your own soul weapon, not in this place where it was created."

Illyana stole a glance over at Kitty and Piotr, gave a wistful smile and an unspoken request for them to act quickly. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'd hoped you would end both our misery…"

Belasco raised the sword, now glowing brighter and brighter with its silvery flame.

Kitty couldn't watch, instead focusing on her lover's eyes. He looked at her, pleading for some other way, some alternative to this terrible task before him. The X-men had always been about bucking impossible odds, it seemed the cruelest of tricks for things to have the mission end like this. All she could offer was her own sadness, and a silent promise of her love for him and Illyana.

Despite his armored form not needing it, Colossus drew in a ragged breath. His right hand tightened further, rose slightly higher, and then began its rapid, inexorable descent.

Kitty would never clearly understand what happened next. Before his fist could hit the device, her own hand flashed forward with ninja quickness. Thumb, index and ring finger touched the three Bloodstones as she activated her mutant talent, willing those gems out of phase with the amulet even as the organic steel hand came smashing down. The Beatrix Medallion shattered and crumbled into black dust, unable to withstand the incredible force of the blow, the cold iron of his fist and the purity of his love for his sister.

The three Bloodstones remained at the end of Kitty's fingers, glowing softly.

"Katya, what… what have we done?"

Kitty looked down at the three gems. They seemed slightly out of focus and indistinct, as if the medallion had been the only thing providing them physical form.

The Bloodstones began to burn with a black fire, and she jerked her hand away. Soon, however, flickers of silver appeared at its heart. The flames grew lighter and lighter, becoming more platinum in color, with only streaks of darkness. Embers and sparks began to float up in the air.

Belasco's eyes grew wide in shock at the sight. He saw the burning elements of Illyana's soul leap high, seemingly reaching out towards her. His face contorted with fury, "Impossible! Nothing can undo the power of the Bloodstones!" he cried, and he thrust the Soulsword into the middle of her chest as the fires of the former Bloodstones reached her body and began to make her glow in a blazing nimbus of white.

Illyana looked down at the burning sword in the middle of her chest. The eldritch flames of the Soulsword merged with those from the Bloodstones. She gave a little laugh, then sighed almost happily as she sank to her knees. Her eyes closed, and her head bowed. There was a loud report, and deep cracks appeared along the length of the Soulsword. The fault lines deepened, and then it seemed to shatter, finally disintegrating into dust that mixed with the now dying remnants of the soul fire, causing it to flare one last time, then go out.

She collapsed, contentment on her face.

* * *

"That can't be good," Wisdom said, watching an inky black cloud pool over the castle in the distance, with a strong, fetid breeze gusting from that direction.

Wolverine grunted as he leveraged the huge body off him with his legs. His claws slid free with a wet sound. "Time's def'nitely wastin'. We're gonna have ta hotfoot over there – you up fer a jog?"

The British spy could feel his chest burning even now, and he had tapped further into his mutant abilities than he ever had before. "A dead run to the castle?" God, he needed a cigarette, and a whisky. And a month in bed. "Me clearing the way with hot knives the whole way?" But Pryde was in there. And her friends – Kurt, Amanda, even the Russian. They needed him. "Try to keep up, old man."

Kitty threw herself in Piotr's arms in tears. Glints of light appeared around the eyes of the metal-skinned Russian, showing it was possible for one with a heart of steel to cry. Amanda, who had been binding Nightcrawler's arm, buried her face in her hands. Kurt, for his part, had clasped his hands around his crucifix, intoning a prayer. Dani's shoulders sagged and her head bowed, and Rachel found herself hugging herself tightly, feeling bitterly cold despite all their exertions.

Belasco looked at Illyana's body with hatred and contempt on his face. "Foolish wench. Your sacrifice means nothing – so long as I live, the Master spell will continue its work. The Elder gods will still be free, and all you have done with your defiance is cost yourself their favor."

He raised his hands, green energy crackling around his fingers. It began to swirl faster and faster around his arms, a whirlwind of lightning that exploded upwards at the vaulted ceiling where the portal to the prison of the Elder Gods had manifested. "Yes! Now the moment of your triumph is upon us, my Lords! Now again all the worlds in the Multiverse will be yours, as it once was, so shall it be!"

He thrust his arms wide, his fingers splayed. Jade lightning cascaded throughout the room as he intoned, "Now, from their prison to mine, from my prison to freedom. Let the walls between worlds be torn asunder, let what is here, be there; let what is there, be reduced to ruin. The time of the Old Ones, the Elder Gods is nigh!"

The X-men stood rooted, paralyzed by their grief and by the incomprehensible magicks the Demon Lord was wielding. They could feel the foul presence of Belasco's masters pervade the hall, making them physically ill the way it seemed to stain their very souls. They could only wait to see their surrounding dissolve into a nightmare version of the world they had known.

They had lost.

* * *

On the Astral plane, Witchfire felt she was being torn apart by the amount of arcane energy being channeled through her. As Dr. Strange had explained it to her, she was the lens for the magickal might of untold power, as all the mages present on that plane, with all their patron entities and guardian spirits, focused all their power through her, relying on her blood kinship with Belasco as a talisman against his magicks. She felt herself being stretched the length and breadth of the Universe to reinforce the dimensional barrier.

She felt the impact of the Master spell, hitting her so hard she felt she'd be obliterated instantly. It continued to slam at her, wave after wave of the most odious sorcery, but it could not break through, not so long as they had the collective will and her blood as a bulwark against.

Finally, after a minute that spanned untold aeons, it receded.

* * *

The smile on Belasco's face faded suddenly. Something was clearly amiss. The presence of the Elder Gods became angry, a tangible feeling of hatred and repugnance.

"How have you done this? How have you reinforced the barrier against me?" He turned to Amanda. "Gypsy witch, you haven't the power, nor does the Valkyrie slattern. Not even your vaunted Dr. Strange with all the power of the Vishanti behind him could accomplish such a feat!"

"No, perhaps not."

"What?" screamed Belasco, flecks of spittle on his lips. "You? Even you could not-"

Illyana was standing, resplendent in a suit of shining white mystical armor. "I didn't. But I found the way. And when you released your Amanda doppelgänger, I managed to hide a tiny daemon on her, one bent to my purpose. It would seek out one with the knowledge and power to stop you. My own ace in the hole, as it were."

She continued, "My daemon found Loki – not exactly the choice I would have made, but it was a daemon so I guess I can't blame it much – and conveyed what I had learned. Arming them with the knowledge of the fatal flaw in your plan."

"No such flaw exists."

"You were the one who taught me the power of blood, Belasco. And yours was available to them." Illyana nodded her head as the sorcerer began to comprehend. "Yes, your daughter. I was witness to your attempts to use her to throw off your shackles. And now, through her, with enough teamwork and mystical firepower from the greater entities, they can prevent you from ever touching that dimension again."

Belasco froze. "So, you tricked me into stabbing you. It destroyed the soulbind, removing your essence from the Master spell."

"Hell, I thought I was going to get a two for one when you went with the dark sword first. I was prepared to die. After everything I've been through, I thought I deserved the rest." She looked over at the X-men, who were yet frozen in place. "But Kitty had other ideas. She freed me – undid the consecration to evil you'd forced on me as an innocent child. After that, did you really think I could be killed by something made of my own soul? It was a simple matter to reabsorb it."

She smiled, "Now, the only blemishes on my soul are those of my own free will." She opened her right hand, and a small glowing light appeared. She reached in with her left. "My old Soulsword was forged out of vengeance and hate. It was tainted by that, and the uses to which it had been put. I'll miss it, but its time had passed." The light flared, and she drew back her hand, now grasping the hilt of a new, brilliantly ornate sword. "As Wolverine taught Kitty, or Doug pointed out when trying to get me to read Mallory or Tolkien, swords don't have to be just for destruction. They can be for protection, they can be objects of beauty, and, when necessary, they can be used to execute a righteous justice."

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the walls shook. "Your big bad bosses aren't very pleased with you. Their prison remains intact – only by breaking the dimensional wall could they truly have escaped. But they can still exert their will."

Fear danced behind Belasco's eyes. He looked around in a blind panic. He yanked his dark blade from its sheath. "I can still offer them the souls of you and your friends. In time, I will be able to break the barrier – another apprentice, one not tied to my issue."

"Repent, Belasco, and we'll protect you." Illyana said, evenly. "You don't have to do this anymore. You were a man, once, centuries ago. You could be so again. You might even be able to get your own soul back."

"Stupid bitch! I am immortal! I have power untold, I would never go back to being a weak, wretched human." He swung his sword.

"I'm sorry," was all Illyana said. She parried his heavy blade with her newly reforged Soulsword. He swung again and again, and she deftly blocked each stroke. He attacked out of raw anger, without skill or nuance, while his former apprentice calmly withstood his assault with an economy of movement and grace. Belasco tried for a desperate overhand smash, to overwhelm her with his superior strength and leverage, but she swung up with her sword, causing several feet of dark metal to shear off on contact with its edge.

Without pausing, he dropped the hilt and cast hellfire at her, which she caught on the flat of her weapon's blade and flicked off into a corner. Before he could cast another spell, she'd thrust the weapon in his heart, plunging it to the depths of his magickal core.

Belasco looked stunned, and time seemed to freeze for a moment.

Then, slowly, his horns began to recede, and his skin changed from red to a pale, olive complexion. His tail vanished, and his right arm, born of sorcery, evaporated into the ether. Disbelief and horror filled his face as he realized that she'd done what she said she would – she'd struck not to kill, but to strip away all of his demonic gifts, making him human. With his remaining left hand, he pulled a heavy dagger from beneath his robe. He lunged at her.

"Illyana!" Kitty cried out, but there was no need. Illyana had placed a stepping disc in front of him, causing him to appear across the room and the knife to reappear buried in the floor.

"You've lost, Belasco. Come with us if you want to live."

"Never!" he spat. He looked around at the creatures left in the hall. "My servants, I command you! Attack them! Eat their flesh, rend their bodies!"

The remaining demons looked at Belasco, and then at the X-men. Colossus adopted a ready stance, Dani nocked an arrow. Rachel and Amanda prepared their own attacks. The creatures looked back at the now completely human, one-armed former sorcerer. They moved quickly, before any of the X-men could react, and the former Lord of Limbo fell screaming beneath a flurry of tooth and claw.

The ceiling above them cleared, the window to the dimensional prison of the Elder Gods closed with the death of the sorcerer behind the Master spell. The demons they summoned broke ranks and fled, leaving only a group of beat up, but very relieved, heroes.

"I don't know about you guys," Rachel said, "But I've had one hell of a day. Can we go home now?"

"There's one more thing to do here," said Illyana, leaning against her brother and Kitty. They walked up the dais to where the headless body of the merged Doug/Lock entity lay. Nightcrawler retrieved the head, its face still bearing a grim determination and a slight smile of accomplishment. Kitty sniffled at the sight, remembering the pair's sacrifice.

"Do you see it, Amanda?" Illyana asked.

Amanda had taken a small crystal from a pouch and was peering through it. "Yes, they are there, all right."

"What is? I don't understand," Dani said, confused.

The Russian girl explained, "Monofilament connections, formed immediately in the wake of the sword strike, invisible to the naked eye. The force of the blow knocked it away, but the head was never completely severed."

"Does that mean?" asked Kitty.

"I think so – but I need your help. All of you."

They crowded around the two sorceresses and clasped hands. A wave of fatigue, above and beyond the events of the day, overcame them all. Amanda, at Doug/Lock's feet, and Illyana at their head, began to glow. The light passed from them into the body. Black and yellow connectors flew up from the two halves of the neck, soon making it seem like it had never been cut. The body glowed brighter still, and they all were forced to step back. The light split into two, and when it finally dimmed, two bodies lay on the floor, one techno-organic, one human.

The Technarch aspect stood up almost immediately. "System repair satisfactory. Selfriend Doug?"

The human let out a long groan. "Remind me not to do that ever again."

The pair found themselves pulled carefully to their feet into a collective embrace.

"Now," said Illyana wearily, "we can go home." She shed her mystical armor with a spell, replacing it with a tunic of a soft blue that matched her eyes. She was clearly unsteady on her feet, and she turned to her brother and asked in a small voice, "Carry me?"

Concern flashed on Piotr's face, "Are you hurt? Did Belasco cut you with his knife?" He looked her over for signs of injury.

"Nothing like that, Piotr. I've just been through a really horrible experience and I've been pushed beyond my limits and I'm tired and want to be coddled a bit."

He smiled and scooped her up in his massive arms, "Certainly, my snowflake." He held her gently, as close to his armored body as he could. She yawned, and smiled up at him. Kitty reached over and grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. Then she threw her arms around Illyana. Kurt and Dani soon joined in, then Amanda, Rachel and Warlock.

Doug hung back; a little unsure of where he stood.

"Get over here, Ramsey!" smiled Illyana,

And everything felt right again.

Eyes welling, the brunette smiled down at her friend, "I can't believe we actually got you – and Doug – back – it's so good to see you again."

"It's great to be seen, roomie."

Kitty looked over at Colossus and blushed a bit. "Um, about that..."

Illyana grinned, then yawned again. "You can tell me all about it… later." She rolled her head to look at Amanda. "One more favor?"

Amanda nodded. "It would be my pleasure." The group gathered close around the gypsy sorceress as she raised her hands to summon the glowing circle of light that would take them all home.

* * *

A/N: As always, pretty much everything in the story is owned by Marvel, and not by me. I'm neither seeking nor receiving financial remuneration – my profit is the fun of the writing and (hopefully) the enjoyment of the readers.

There's still an epilogue to get to, but the action is pretty much complete. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Amokitty, and to the readers on the kiotr community for their support, advice, and input.


	15. Loose Ends, Tied Off

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Marvel. No remuneration on my part is sought or received. I'm just playing. Please don't sue. I've gotten rather A/U since the start of this thing, so the chance of spoilers has decreased, but it may still be there. I hope you enjoy our finale... I guess it's too long to call an epilogue at this point

* * *

"This is too bloody much," shouted Pete Wisdom, his fingers blazing a trail of white-hot death. "It's like these little buggers are popping out of the ground like bloody weeds."

"Dammit!" exclaimed Logan, "We ain't making crap for progress here." The cloudbank above the castle, now impossibly dark, had begun to rotate, faster and faster, and the wind speed increased in proportion to the building storm.

Wolverine tried to close his nostrils to the overwhelming stench on the gale force wind that assaulted the two of them. The good news was that the powerful gusts were tossing around the smaller demons like rag dolls, and causing the larger ones to stagger as much as he was. Wisdom was crouched low, trying to cover his head with his jacket against the sandblaster power of the storm.

Every sense Logan had was telling him to run. There was a presence here so inimical to life that it caused his hackles to rise and fresh adrenaline to course through his system. Still, he forced his way forward, inch by painful inch, as his flesh was scored and abraded.

And then it was gone, replaced by an eerie calm. The remaining creatures scampered away, fear and uncertainty in their eyes and their guttural calls.

Pete Wisdom pulled himself to his feet, dusting off his pants as he did. "Not that I object that our ugly little friends don't want to play anymore, but what just happened? Did we win?"

"Looks like."

"Awfully rude of them, not to wait for us."

Logan sniffed, "If ya didn't get enough, we can track down the Lord a' the Rings extras an' put 'em down." He took another sniff, his nose crinkling. "Then again, maybe they left us some scraps after all."

* * *

It was Cannonball, patrolling the grounds at high speed, that saw the flash first. "Scott, Ah think we got company!"

"Hostile? Or friendly?"

Sam grinned as he swooped down for a landing, "Definitely friendly – Ah'd say the conquering heroes have come home!"

* * *

Yellow slits peered through the darkness of the otherwise deserted throne room. Kurt Wagner looked around carefully, and then, satisfied that the grisly remains of his former master weren't going to come together and reanimate him and fairly confident that the group of X-men were gone, crawled out of the shadows. He'd clung nervously to the wall as the scene had played out, ready to seize whatever opportunity presented itself.

He could not be more delighted with the result. There were moments, he knew, when he could have changed the outcome. He could have warned his lord about the way Ramsey and his robotic friend had merged into one being. He might have been able to reach the medallion or Soulsword by teleporting there before his pathetically noble counterpart. What had stopped him, to risk angering Belasco and the extreme pain and horrible death that might result, he could not say. But he hadn't, and now he would reap his reward.

It was the gifts Belasco had given his apprentice - gifts always denied Kurt, a lowly manservant - that he sought now. The sword was the easiest to find, lying just where Ramsey had dropped it when he'd been decapitated. Kurt reached down and grasped the hilt, delighting in the aura of pure malevolence surrounding the weapon. It had more heft to it than he liked - the rapier or sabre would be his preference - but he could see the way it would cleave necks and limbs with equanimity. He smiled broadly, and searched for the other relic he desired.

He heard skittering sounds in the halls, and knew he was running out of time. The demon host that had scattered with the termination of Master spell and the death of Belasco were now heading back, confident that the assorted heroes had gone.

He recalled how Belasco had placed the Pentacle of Paimon inside his robe, but that knowledge was of little use given the degree of mutilation to the body and its effects. Kurt prodded a blood soaked piece of cloth with the tip of the sword, smug satisfaction on his face at the final end of the man who had made him the twisted thing he'd become. In truth, Belasco would be taking just as much delight had it been him that lay in pieces everywhere - had taken just as much delight, in fact, in those times that Kurt had served as an object lesson for the other servants.

Unbidden, the memory stirred of being dragged back to life after being tortured to death over and over. Included in the memory was a phrase - "_J'kfvln Sylvryl Krhn'n Uqlplq_" - the spell of resurrection. As he continued to search the remains, he thought idly about trying it - if he could somehow compel Belasco's servitude, the idea of subjecting his former master to the agony of being reconstituted bodily and having one's soul plucked from the stillness of death and forcibly reunited was an intriguing one. But Kurt had seen enough plans go awry here; most likely, he would not be able to assure the sorcerer's fealty, and would end up back in his old role, with some punishment Belasco thought suitable for the failure with the Master spell.

A glint of black among the carnage caught his eye, even as a handful of goblins came sniffing into the room. "Back!" he cried, brandishing his sword and easily beheading the nearest goblin, "It's mine, do you see? All mine!" He plunged his hand into the gore and pulled out the amulet. The goblins had raised a hooting call, and soon dozens of demons had come in. A lizard bear snarled at him, and began to shamble forward, its claws spread and fangs poised to strike.

"_Kl'tzkh_!" Kurt cried out. For a second, nothing happened, and he feared he hadn't pronounced the word of power correctly. But then the amulet flashed green, and a bolt of black lightning impacted heavily into the lizard bear's chest, throwing it back. It crashed into a far wall, and slumped down, dead. "Yes," said Kurt, "I control the magic now, and with it, Limbo itself! And I promise you, I will not be a kindly master." He paused; letting his words sink in, taking great pleasure in the looks of fear he was getting. "But if you escape my displeasure - and my whims - then you will be rewarded greatly..

"Belasco, the fool, never allowed me to use my own power to leave this place. But as my inferior, insufferable double has shown, the power to traverse the worlds is mine. I will go to Earth, collect riches and slaves aplenty. For what can truly stop a teleporter as myself? I will bring the finest women here for my amusement, and you will get to dine richly on my scraps when I am through! Together, we will all live as kings! "

Smiling broadly, he looked them over. "_Kl'tzkh_!" he yelled, blasting a creature selected at random. "Just remember that I am king above all."

The assembled creatures, mindful of the ease by which three of their number had been dispatched, roared their assent.

* * *

"Heard enough?"

Wisdom had pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was hard to picture Wagner so power-mad and depraved, but he'd certainly seen worse. And he'd certainly seen people fall much farther into darkness during his time in Black Air and military intelligence. "Yeah, let's do it."

* * *

Tony Stark breathed a deep sigh. Another crisis had been averted; the world would seem to live to see another day.

He glanced at the array of holographic projections floating before a large wall as Deputy Director Maria Hill completed her report. The overall attitude in the war room was still one of nervous tension - most SHIELD agents were no more comfortable facing magickal enemies than he was, some of them referring to it as "DiNDiS", short for "that Dungeons and Dragons shit". He thought, very briefly, that perhaps a new division to deal with such crises, something along the lines of their extraterrestial division SWORD, only for mystic threats. STAFF? SPELL? He filed it away for future reference.

But for now, it seemed like everything was winding down. The screens before him showed the aftermath, the devastation inflicted on five major population centers. The deaths were being numbered in the thousands, and the financial costs in the billions. He was fairly pleased with the response of his Initiative, but was also keen to analysis the data gathered on the superpowered response from the rest of the world. The Winter Guard had been very impressive in Moscow, decent mobilization time, albeit with the advance warning from Summers. They were, aside from the new Darkstar and Red Guardian, known entities, and he knew how to take them down if need be. A reconstituted China Force fought tenaciously in Shanghai, and Japan's Big Hero 6 had helped out in both there and in Seoul.

Bringing up his e-mail on his armor's displays, he began to compose a message to have Hill take the video to the tactics team for analysis. One could never be too prepared for the future, particularly if countries like India and China would soon be able to field metahuman forces comparable to those in the States.

Suddenly, an incoming text message burst through all of his security protocols and opened in front of his virtual mail. It blazed in fiery blue letters

tony

the road to the future must be paved with trust

it was cooperation not conflict that won this day

stephen

Iron Man considered this for a moment, and then tossed the e-mail he'd been writing in the virtual recycle bin. The crew down in Tactics would be analyzing the data anyway. Maybe if he wasn't the one to order them to constantly look for ways to neutralize any non-Initiative superbeings, they might begin to think that the so-called "heroes" had things on their minds other than trying to beat the crap out of one another.

Maybe. He shrugged, and focused back in on the briefing with the Deputy Director.

* * *

Wolverine ghosted into position, his footfalls silenced by years of study and intense concentration. He crouched behind one of the larger demons, an acid-spitter, whose bulk shielded him from view. Most of the horde was listening raptly as that evil facsimile of Kurt Wagner held high the Pentacle of Paimon in his left hand and the dark sword in his right, as he regaled them with tales of how his regime would bring them the flesh of innocents to violate and consume. He stifled the growl in his throat, then peered back at the pillar where Wisdom was waiting as both sniper and heavy artillery. Logan was the infantry in both design and temperament. Sure, he was adept at the wetworks stealth ninja thing, but nothing set his heart to racing like a good brawl.

He poised his fist an inch away from the base of the creature's skull, right where it met the top of the spine, and popped his claws.

It tumbled forward with a gurgle, choking on its own ichor, and knocking over some of its smaller brethren and alerting the others. Adamantium flashed and wet sprays of green, yellow and blue followed in its wake. He just needed to make a lot of noise, get all the eyes on him, to give Wisdom a clean shot at "Dark Nightcrawler", but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to enjoy himself a bit.

Wagner watched in horror as the whirling dervish - his friend in another, forgotten life -decimated his troops. His first impulse was to 'port away, but to show cowardice here, however enticing, would mean he would never have this chance again. "_Kl'tzkh_!" he cried, summoning the black lightning. "_Kl'tzkh_! _Kl'tzkh_!" Bolts crackled across the room, which echoed with the sounds of their devastating impacts.

Logan threw himself out of the way, only to be carried along by the shockwave and hurled against a pillar. Shrapnel cut deep into his flesh, and his head was ringing. He began to struggle to his feet when the stench of brimstone overwhelmed his nostrils.

Belasco's servant was on him before he could recover, and the lurch to his system that accompanied the subsequent teleport was nothing compared to the agony he felt as he materialized. Wagner had plunged the obsidian blade he held into Wolverine's abdomen, where it slid evenly through into the floor behind him, pinning him. Worse than the pain from that was the foul iciness that made his gut burn and his heart scream. He clenched his teeth.

"Pitiful animal," mocked Kurt. "What good is your berserker fury now, trapped like an insect in a collection. You've always made an excellent specimen. Perhaps I should mount you on my wall? We can see how long your vaunted healing factor can stave off the dark magic of the sword, which even now floods your bloodstream with its poison." His face took on a thoughtful look, then a wicked grin. Eight sharp retorts of imploding and expanding air, sulfur and brimstone rocked the chamber, and when the smoke parted, four pikes had been teleported through Wolverine's wrists and ankles and into the floor.

"Now that you are properly secured," the evil Nightcrawler said as he pulled the dark bladed sword from out of Wolverine slowly, "I can deal with your friend properly. You can come out now, _Herr_ Wisdom!"

Pete had not been idle during the battle, having sent salvo after salvo into the crowd of demons when he hadn't been able to get a clean shot at Wagner. Only a handful of the creatures remained, but he hadn't counted on being exposed so quickly. He took cover behind a pillar, as he fed more power into the fingers of his right hand.

Kurt noticed the glow across the room. "Now, now, let's have none of that! Surely you must know if you fire your little hot knives, you have a much better chance of hitting your friend here."

"Quite sure of yourself, aren't you, Wagner?" Pete said.

"_Ja, _quite so. I may not have worked with you as my deluded counterpart, but my former master made me quite aware of your capabilities. I can teleport away before you can twitch a finger. Now come out, so I may kill you quickly, instead of letting you linger like the Wolverine here."

Wisdom shouted back, "Let me think about it for a minute, will ya?" He crunched the numbers in his head – what they knew about Logan's healing factor, it should only be a few moments more. "You know, Wagner, I think I'll take a pass. I still have work t' do, and being killed by a wanker like you would look dreadful in my file. And besides," he said, stalling a bit more, "I know something that you don't know."

"And what's that?"

"Adamantium is too dense for your little teleport trick to try to merge it with those pike shafts."

"What-!" Kurt spun to look back at the pinned X-man on the ground, catching only the silvery flash of claws heading his way. His right arm went flying, severed neatly at the bicep, the sword tumbling from it as it hit the ground several feet away. Wolverine lunged for the killing strike, only to have his claws rake against stone as his opponent vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Crap," he muttered, and collapsed to the floor. "You got him, Wisdom? I still need to grow back some ligaments and tendons in my ankles here." Hearing no response but a series of soft footsteps, he pulled himself over to a stone pillar and leaned against it to wait.

* * *

There were times – precious few over the years – that made being the leader of a group of outcast freaks against murderous supervillains, impossible odds, and never-ending intolerance and bigotry worth all the hassle. As Scott looked out the front door and saw the smile on Peter's face as he cradled his sister in his arms, and at the way the third generation of Xavier's students, long outgrown the title "New Mutants", gathered around a sandy haired young man, he knew that this was one of those. The world had been saved, as always, but they'd also brought two of their own back to the fold. He smiled, and put his arm around Emma. She smiled back wistfully, wishing that her Hellions, or Synch, or the children from the bus destroyed by Stryker's fanatics might also be returned to her, but knowing that they had to take these moments as the blessings they were.

Rahne had been in wolf form, scouting the forest north of the mansion, when she'd caught his scent. She hadn't believed it, but came running when Dani had beckoned her over the mindlink they shared. She'd come racing out of the trees at a full sprint, running circles around Doug before putting her paws on his chest and lapping at his face.

"Rahne?" he laughed, "Down, girl!"

She shifted to human form and caught him in a tight embrace. "Dougie! I cannae believe it! Look at ye, ye've grown a beard! How are ye here?"

There would be time for stories later.

* * *

It had all gone wrong. Stupid stupid stupid! He should have known better; he wasn't cut out to be a King of Hell. Blood gushed from his right arm – he would bleed out very soon unless he remembered a healing spell, and the Master so seldom used them. Maybe a fire spell, to cauterize the wound? How did that go? If only the Master were here.

He collapsed heavily against the wall. He hadn't been able to teleport far. If only it were far enough.

Then he thought – the Master could be here. It was a spell he knew. _J'kfvln Sylvryl Krhn'n Uqlplq._ That one was burned into his memory, after all.

He began to focus his breathing, trying to block out the pain. He focused the image of Belasco in his thoughts, directing them at the Pentacle in his left hand. "Lord Belasco, I summon thee. From thy grave, I beckon thee. Master of Limbo, I summon thee! _J'kfvln Sylvryl Krhn'n Uq-"_

He heard a voice - "Oh, bugger _that!_" – and his eyes were blinded by impossibly bright incandescence streaming across the way.

The glow that had been building up in the Pentacle of Paimon died with him.

"Get him?" asked Logan, casually smoking one of his cheroots.

"I came back, didn't I?"

The Canadian man looked in his eyes, then nodded. "Good."

"No lectures, how I could have cauterized the wound and brought him back alive?" asked Pete, collapsing down next to him.

"Nah. Didn't have any use for him alive."

"Fair enough. I keep forgetting you aren't as soft as most of the spandex wearers."

"You do know that there's about fifty ways I could use that cheap suit you wear against you in a fight, right?" Logan snarled, "Say what ya want, but this stuff's tough as body armor, with complete freedom a' movement when things get dirty."

"Pshaw, I could take you."

"Like hell."

Wisdom stumbled to his feet, "C'mon old man, show me what you've got."

Wolverine's nostrils flared, and his hackles rose. "Listen, Wisdom, I don't know what – oh, I get it. You've made your point. Sit the hell back down."

"Can it be? I thought you super-types were legally obligated to get into fights with one another at the drop of a hat. You've completely ruined my image of you."

He grimaced, "You can really be a pain in the ass, Wisdom."

Pete shrugged, "One does one's best." They sat in silence for several minutes before he spoke again, "So tell me – the Russian – is he, is he good to her?"

"He ain't screwed up this time around, no. It took 'em long enough, but they finally got things figgered out."

"So you don't think-?"

"Wouldn't count on it, no. The kids are pretty damn happy together."

"Hrmmm."

A few more minutes went by. "What time yer fairy princess say she'd pick us up?"

"She said she'd give us twenty four hours."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"C'mon, get up."

"Why? Where are we going? You know some sort of back door out of here?"

"No, but ol' Hornhead had some mortal appetites. Hopefully he didn't conjure all his booze, 'cause if we don't find some soon, yer gonna get that super-type fight you were askin' for."

* * *

"You can put me down now, Piotr," Illyana said, "I want to go join in the X-babies reunion over there."

"Are you well enough to walk?" he asked, voice thick with concern.

"Of course I am, silly. I said I just wanted to be babied. Now I want to be with my friends, before Doug hogs all my attention." She winked impishly at him.

"As you wish," he smiled, and carefully put her on her feet. "If you are well enough, there is something I would like you to do, if you are up to it."

"Sure, bro, what do you need?"

He leaned over and whispered into her ear. She nodded and grinned, and then went over to the group hug surrounding Doug. Piotr then reverted to human form, and immediately staggered forward.

Kitty was there, slipping into the crook of his arm and steadying him. "Whoa there, big guy, I got you."

"So you do." He glanced over at his sister, who twitched her left hand even as Roberto had lifted her in a huge bearhug. "The question, I suppose, is how long you will want an oaf like me."

She blinked at him, "Peter, this is a helluva time to be having relationship doubts."

"_Nyet!_" he said, quickly. "I think that came out wrong. I never seem to get the words right, with you. No words seem good enough. But when I was trapped in Belasco's nightmare, I became certain of just one thing." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, trying to get the words right. "I love you, _Katya_, and I know that I will for the rest of my life." He slid his arm from around her, and grasped both of her hands in his. "So tiny," he remarked, "but so strong. I want, I need your strength in my life."

He sank to one knee, and held out his hand. There was the flash of a tiny teleportation circle, and a small ring fell into his palm. "My dearest Ekaterina – Katherine Anne Pryde – you have been my truest friend. You have saved my life, and enriched my soul. You have shown me love as I have never imagined, and your heart is a masterpiece to the entire world. This ring belonged to my mother." He paused, the ring hovering before her finger. "Would you do me the honor of wearing it? Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"

Kitty was momentarily stunned, not quite believing what was happening. Rachel arched an eyebrow at her, wondering if she'd have to remind her to breathe, or even push the ring onto her finger telekinetically. The answer, of course, was obvious; it was all over her thoughts. Ororo, standing next to Rachel and seeing her impatience, put a gentle hand on her arm, letting her know that Kitty, the daughter of her heart, would not be found wanting.

"Yes!" Kitty cried out, leaping from her reverie and sliding the ring into place. "Oh Piotr, of course I'll marry you!"

She pulled him to his feet, and then leapt into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

Yes, thought Scott. Times like these made it all worthwhile.

-Fin-

A/N: Another fic finally finished. Wow. This one, like _Kit's Laughing_, was both labor and love. I really love these characters and I hope I've done them justice, and given them the happy ending they never seem to get in the comics.

Thanks to all the folks at the kiotr livejournal community for their support and patience. Thanks especially to my beta, Amokitty, for catching my typoes and awkwardness. You've been an absolute wonder. And thanks to you, the reader, for taking the time. I really hope you had as much fun (or more - you never get reader's block, do you?) as I did.

I've already started a third story. No promises on when the first chapters will be posted, just saying.


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